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Division 


Section 


THE  POETRY  OF  JOB 


THE  POETRY  OF  JOB 

(*      APR    6  1911 
GEORGE  H.  GILBERT,  Ph1)?^^L  %i^'^% 

Professor  of  New  Testament  Literature  and  Interpretation 
in  the  Chicago  Theological  Seminary 


"A  NOBLE  BOOK,  EVERY  man's  BOOK." — Carlyle 


CHICAGO 
A.  C.  McCLURG  AND  COMPANY 

1889 


Copyright 

By  a.  C.  McCldrg  and  Co. 

A.D.  1889 


TO 

Professor  Franz  Delitzsch, 
Prof.  Charles  A.  Briggs  and  Prof.  Francis  Brown, 

This  little  volume 
is  respectfully  and  affectionately  inscribed. 


PKEFACE. 


IT  has  pleased  God  to  send  His  truth  to  us 
by  way  of  human  minds  and  hearts,  permit- 
ting the  hghts  and  shadows  of  earthly  experi- 
ence to  mingle  with  the  radiance  from  His 
throne.  His  truth  has  never  been  published 
on  earth  save  in  an  earthly  garb.  Even  as 
Christ,  the  supreme  and  absolute  Word  of  the 
Father,  took  upon  Him  the  seed  of  Abraham 
and  tabernacled  in  the  flesh,  lookmg  out  upon 
life  and  death  and  immortality  tlu^ough  human 
eyes,  so  the  word  from  heaven  m  olden  times 
had  its  earthly  side,  its  tabernacle  of  flesh.  It 
is  indeed  the  word  of  God,  but  it  is  none  the 
less  truly  the  word  of  man.  We  honor  the 
Lord  by  recognizing  this  fact,  by  accepting  the 
methods  of  His  tuition,  and  we  also  make  a 
larger  helpfulness  and  enjoyment  of  His  word 
possible.  The  Bible  has  resources  adapted  to 
exert  a  beneficent  influence  which  are  only  thus 
reached.  For  it  not  only  contains  a  revela- 
tion of  Divine  truth  and  grace  which  infinitely 


viii  PREFACE. 

transcends  the  best  dreams  of  the  classic  world, 
but  it  is  also  the  treasure-house  of  poetry  whose 
literary  excellence  ought  to  share  the  highest 
honors  with  Homer,  with  Sophocles  and  Sappho, 
and  the  bards  of  later  ages.  The  following 
treatise,  while  aimmg,  especially  m  the  trans- 
lation, to  make  the  spiritual  lessons  of  Job 
plainer  and  more  effectual,  would  call  attention 
to  the  surprismg  beauty  of  the  human  elements 
in  this  portion  of  the  Bible.  There  is  little 
danger  that,  by  so  doing,  the  Divine  teaching 
would  receive  less  honor  and  become  less  dear ; 
on  the  contrary,  such  attention  would  in  the 
main  lead  to  a  more  appreciative  estimate  of 
the  heavenly  message.  It  does  not  detract 
from  the  beauty  of  the  rainbow  to  know  that 
it  did  not  come  down  out  of  the  skies  perfect 
and  complete,  but  that  only  the  wonderful  light 
came  down,  and  found  in  our  eartlily  atmos- 
phere the  lenses  which  could  make  its  hidden 
riches  visible  to  our  mortal  eyes.  It  is  still 
God's  bow,  and  though  it  should  be  arched 
through  human  tears. 

In  studying  the  Book  of  Job  as  poetry,  the 
first  and  most  difficult  duty  was  to  render  the 
poem  into  English.  It  has  been  my  endeavor 
to  make  this  as  perfect  as  the  present  state  of 


PREFACE.  ix 

Semitic  studies  in  general  and  of  tlie  poem 
of  Job  in  particular  would  permit.  There 
are  words  in  the  poem  whose  meaning  is  still 
uncertain,  and  many  passages  whose  thought 
is  more  or  less  obscure.  As  it  lay  outside  of 
the  purpose  of  this  essay  to  give  the  grounds 
of  the  translation  from  step  to  step,  it  may  be 
proper  to  say  that  the  interpretation  here  given, 
in  the  case  of  each  word  and  sentence  in  the 
poem,  has  been  adopted  only  after  repeated 
and  careful  examination  of  all  the  philological 
evidence,  and  only  after  a  repeated  and  careful 
examination  of  each  detail  in  the  light  of  the 
manifest  aim  and  thought  of  the  poem  as  a 
whole.  Every  conclusion  has  been  reviewed 
and  tested  several  times.  The  text  that  has 
been  translated  is  that  edited  by  L.  Baer  and 
Franz  Delitzsch,  Leipzig,  1875. 

With  regard  to  the  form  of  the  translation 
three  remarks  should  be  made.  First,  the  trans- 
lation is  rhythmical,  or,  at  least,  constantly  aims 
to  be.  Not  metrical,  for  all  that  is  claimed 
for  the  original  is  a  carefully  preserved  rhjrthm. 
It  is  a  mistake,  I  think,  to  endeavor  to  render 
the  poem  into  metrical  verse  ;  but  any  translar 
tion  of  it  that  aims  at  perfection  must  be 
rhythmical.     As  we  are  not  satisfied  with  a 


X  PREFACE. 

prose  translation  of  the  Faust  or  the  Divme 
Comedy,  so  we  should  not  be  satisfied  with  a 
prose  translation  of  Job. 

Second,  this  translation  aims  to  give  the 
particular  rhythmical  movement  of  the  orig- 
inal. The  Hebrew  lines  in  Job  generally  have 
three  tones,  the  only  important  exceptions 
being  the  two-toned  and  the  four-toned  lines, 
about  fifty-nine  of  the  former  and  eighty-five 
of  the  latter.*  The  number  of  syllables  belong- 
ing to  the  sphere  of  a  single  tone  varies  con- 
stantly, producing  what  would  be  designated, 
according  to  our  canons  of  meter,  a  mingling' 
of  iambic,  trochaic,  dactylic,  and  anapaestic 
feet ;  but  the  rhythm  is  not  often  disturbed  by 
this  freedom.  The  present  translation  avails 
itself  of  the  same  liberty  that  is  found  in  the 
original.  The  three-toned  Hebrew  lines  have 
been  rendered  into  three-toned  English  lines, 
and  the  rhythm  of  the  two-toned  and  four- 
toned  lines  also  has  been  preserved.  As  an 
example  of  three-toned  lines,  we  may  take 
this : 

"  The  wicked  have  ceased  there  from  troubling, 

And  there  are  the  weary  at  rest." 

[Cha2J.  iii.  17.] 

*  Vide  Professor  Briggs's  "Biblical  Study,"  Chapter  ix. 


PREFACE.  xi 

Examples  of  the  four-toned  and  two-toned  lines 
are  the  following : 

"  The  wicked  man  is  in  pain  all  his  days, 
And  the  sum  of  the  years  reserved  for  the  tyrant." 

[Chap.  XV.  20.} 

"  My  spirit  is  broken, 
My  days  are  extinct. 
The  grave-yard  is  mine." 

[Chap.  xvii.  1.] 

Where  it  was  not  possible  to  give  the  thought 
of  the  original  closely,  and  at  the  same  time 
secure  a  flowmg  rhythm,  the  rhythm  has  been 
sacrificed  to  the  thought.  But  I  trust  this  has 
not  often  been  found  necessary. 

Third,  no  attempt  has  been  made  to  divide 
the  poem  into  stanzas,  inasmuch  as  it  still 
seems  very  doubtful  whether  a  regular  stroph- 
ical  arrangement  belonged  to  the  original. 
The  names  of  God  have  been  transliterated  or 
translated,  according  to  the  requirements  of  the 
English  line :  a  freedom  which,  in  poetry  at 
least,  should  need  no  apology. 

For  the  study  of  the  poetical  conceptions  of 
the  Book  of  Job  the  literature  is  exceedingly 
meagre.  The  work  of  Bishop  Lowth,  De  Sacra 
HebrcGorum  Poesi^  1753,  and  that  of  Herder, 
Der  Geist  der  Hehraeischen  Poesle,  1782-3, 


xii  PREFACE. 

contain  appreciative  suggestions,  though  neither 
gives  special  study  to  the  poem  of  Job.  It  has 
been  my  aim  in  this  essay  to  contribute  some- 
what to  the  interpretation  of  the  Book  of  Job 
as  poetry.  This  greatest  product  of  the  Hebrew 
mind  has  been  and  still  is  a  more  closely  sealed 
book  than  is  any  one  of  the  illustrious  poems  of 
history  ;  yet,  surely,  considered  even  as  a  liter- 
ary creation,  it  should  be  ranked  with  the 
highest  efforts  of  human  genius. 

G.  H.  G. 
Chicago  Theological  Seminakt, 
May,  1889. 


CONTENTS. 


Part  I. 
A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION  OF  JOB. 


CHAPTER 

I-II.    THE    PROLOGUE 

III.  job's  curse    . 


PAGE 
17 
23 


THE  FIRST  CYCLE  OF  THE  POEM. 

IV-V.   eliphaz 

VI-VII.    JOB 

VIII.    BILDAD 

IX-X.    JOB 

XI.    ZOPHAR 

XII-XIV.    JOB 


THE  SECOND  CYCLE  OF  THE  POEM. 

XV.  ELIPHAZ 

XVI-XVII.  JOB     .       . 

XVIII.  BILDAD 

XIX.  JOB     .       . 

XX.  ZOPHAR 

XXI.  JOB     .       . 

THE  THIRD  CYCLE  OF  THE  POEM. 

XXII.    ELIPHAZ 

XXIII-XXIV.    JOB .       . 

XXV.    BILDAD 

XXVI-XXVIII.    JOB 

XXIX-XXXI.    THE    SOLILOQUY    OF   JOB       .       . 
XXXII-XXXVII.    ELIHU 

xxxviii-XLii.  Jehovah's  address  and  job's 

ANSWERS 

XLII.    THE    EPILOGUE 


G2 
G4 
08 
68 
74 
82 

96 
107 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

Pakt  II. 
INTERPRETATION  OF  THE  POEM. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    A  BRIEF  ANALYSIS    OF   JOB Ill 

II.    NATURE    IN   THE    POEM    OF   JOB         .       .       .      137 

III.  THE  ANIMAL  KINGDOM    IN    THE    POEM    OF 

JOB IGO 

IV.  HUMAN    LIFE    IN    TPIE    POEM    OF   JOB    .       .      179 
V.    THE    poet's    CONCEPTIONS    OF    GOD         .       .      203 


PART  I. 
A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION  OF  JOB 


THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 


PART  L 
A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION  OF  JOB. 


THE    PROLOGUE. 
CHAPTER  I. 

THERE  was  a  man  in  the  land  of  Uz,  by  tlie 
name  of  Job,  and  that  man  was  blameless 
and  upright,  and  one  who  feared  God  and  turned 
away  from  evil.  Now  there  were  born  imto 
hmi  seven  sons  and  three  daughters.  And  his 
substance  was  seven  thousand  sheep,  and  tlu'ee 
thousand  camels,  and  five  hundred  yoke  of  oxen, 
and  ^YQ  hundred  she-asses,  and  very  many 
servants ;  and  that  man  was  greater  than  all 
the  sons  of  the  East.  Now  his  sons  used  to  go 
and  make  a  feast  in  the  house  of  each  one  on 
his  day,  and  they  used  to  send  and  call  theh 
three  sisters  to  eat  and  to  drink  with  them, 
o]   And  it  came  to  pass,  when  the  days  of  the 

Note. — The  Prolo^e,  \vitli  the  exception  of  chapter  i.  21, 
also  the  Introductory  verse  of  many  chapters,  together  Avith 
chapter  xxxii.  1-5,  and  the  Epilogue,  chapter  xlii.  7-17,  are  in 
prose. 

2 


18  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

feast  had  circled  round,  Job  sent  and  sanctified 
them ;  and  he  arose  early  in  the  morning,  and 
offered  burnt-offerings  according  to  the  number 
of  them  all,  for  Job  said.  Perhaps  my  children 
have  sinned,  and  have  parted  with  God  in  their 
heart.     Thus  did  Job  continually. 

Now  the  day  arrived  when  the  sons  of  God 
came  to  present  themselves  before  Jehovah, 
and  the  Adversary  also  came  among  them. 
And  Jehovah  said  unto  the  Adversary,  Whence 
comest  thou?  And  the  Adversary  answered 
Jehovah  and  said.  From  going  to  and  fro  on 
the  earth,  and  from  walking  about  upon  it. 
And  Jehovali  said  unto  the  Adversary,  Hast 
thou  considered  my  servant  Job?  for  there  is 
none  like  him  on  the  earth,  a  man  blameless 
and  upright,  one  who  feareth  God  and  turneth 
away  from  evil.  Then  the  Adversary  answered 
Jehovali  and  said.  Doth  Job  fear  God  for 
lo]  naught  ?  Hast  not  Thou  thyself  set  a  hedge 
about  him,  and  about  his  house,  and  about  all 
that  he  hath,  on  every  side  ?  Thou  hast  blessed 
the  work  of  his  hands,  and  his  substance  has 
increased  in  the  land.  But  put  forth  now  Thy 
hand  and  touch  all  that  he  hath:  verily,  he 
will  renounce  Thee  unto  Thy  face.  And  Jeho- 
vah said  unto  the  Adversary,  Behold,  all  that 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      19 

he  hatli  is  in  thy  power :  only  against  him 
thou  shalt  not  put  forth  thy  hand.  And 
the  Adversary  went  out  from  the  presence  of 
Jehovah. 

Now  the  day  came  when  his  sons  and  his 
daughters  were  eating  and  were  drinking  wine 
in  the  house  of  their  eldest  brother.  And  a 
messenger  came  to  Job  and  said,  The  oxen 
were  ploughing,  and  the  she-asses  were  feeding 
15]  beside  them,  and  the  Sabseans  made  an  at- 
tack and  carried  them  away,  and  the  young 
men  they  smote  with  the  edge  of  the  sword  ; 
and  I  escaped,  only  I  alone,  to  tell  thee. 
While  this  one  was  speaking,  another  came 
and  said.  The  fire  of  God  fell  from  heaven, 
and  kindled  upon  the  sheep  and  the  young  men, 
and  consumed  them ;  and  I  escaped,  only  I 
alone,  to  tell  thee.  While  this  one  was  speak- 
ing, another  came  and  said.  The  Chaldseans 
made  out  three  bands,  and  came  against  the 
camels,  and  carried  them  away,  and  the  young 
men  they  smote  with  the  edge  of  the  sword ; 
and  I  escaped,  only  I  alone,  to  tell  thee.  While 
this  one  was  speaking,  another  came  and  said. 
Thy  sons  and  thy  daughters  were  eatmg  and 
were  drinking  wine  in  the  house  of  their  eldest 
brother  ;  and,  behold,  a  great  wind  came  from 


20  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB, 

beyond  the  desert,  and  smote  tlie  four  corners 
of  tlie  house,  and  it  fell  upon  the  young  people, 
and  they  died  ;  and  I  escaped,  only  I  alone,  to 
20]  tell  thee.  And  Job  rose  up,  and  rent  his 
garment,  and  shaved  his  head,  then  fell  upon 
the  ground  and  worshipped. 
And  he  said : 

Naked  came  I  from  my  mother's  womb, 
And  naked  shall  thither  return : 
Jehovah  gave,  and  Jehovah  hath  taken  ; 
The  name  of  Jehovah  be  blessed ! 

In  all  this   Job   smned  not,  neither   ascribed 
f oUy  to  God. 

CHAPTER  11. 

NOW  the  day  arrived  when  the  sons  of  God 
came  to  present  themselves  before  Jeho- 
vah, and  the  Adversary  also  came  among  them  to 
present  himself  before  Jehovah.  And  Jehovah 
said  unto  the  Adversary,  Whence  comest  thou  ? 
And  the  Adversary  answered  Jehovah  and 
said.  From  going  to  and  fro  on  the  earth,  and 
from  wallving  about  upon  it.  And  Jehovah 
said  unto  the  Adversary,  Hast  thou  consid- 
ered my  servant  Job  ?  for  there  is  none  like 
him  on  the  earth,  a  man  blameless  and  upright. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      21 

one  who  fearetli  God  and  turnetli  away  from 
evil ;  and  still  he  holdeth  fast  his  integrity :  so 
thou  hast  moved  me  against  him,  to  destroy 
him,  without  cause.  Then  the  Adversary 
answered  Jehovah  and  said.  Skin  for  skin,  and 
5]  all  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  his  life. 
But  put  forth  now  Thy  hand,  and  touch  his 
bone  and  his  flesh :  verily,  unto  Thy  face  will 
he  renounce  Thee.  And  Jehovah  said  unto 
the  Adversary,  Behold,  he  is  in  thy  hand :  only 
his  life  preserve. 

Then  the  Adversary  went  forth  from  the 
presence  of  Jehovali,  and  smote  Job  with  a 
grievous  sore  from  the  sole  of  his  foot  to  his 
crown.  And  he  took  him  a  potsherd  with 
which  to  scratch  himself,  sitting  in  the  midst  of 
the  ashes.  And  his  wife  said  unto  him.  Dost 
thou  cling  to  thine  integrity  still  ?  Renounce 
10]  God,  and  die !  Then  he  said  unto  her.  As 
one  of  the  foolish  women  speaketh,  so  dost  thou 
speak.  The  good  shall  we  receive  from  God, 
and  the  evil  shall  we  not  receive  ?  In  all  this 
Job  smned  not  with  his  lips. 

Now  the  three  friends  of  Job  heard  of  all 
this  evil  that  had  come  upon  him,  and  they 
came  each  from  his  place,  Eliphaz  the  Teman- 
ite.  and  Bildad  the   Shuhite,  and  Zophar  the 


22  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Naamathite,  and  they  met  together,  as  agreed, 
to  come  and  lament  for  him  and  comfort  hun. 
And  they  lifted  up  their  eyes  afar  off,  and  they 
recognized  him  not ;  then  they  lifted  up  their 
voice  and  wept.  And  each  man  rent  his  mantle, 
and  they  scattered  dust  upon  their  heads  to- 
ward heaven.  Then  they  sat  down  with  him 
on  the  earth  seven  days  and  seven  nights,  no 
one  spealdng  unto  him  a  word,  because  they 
saw  that  the  pain  was  very  great. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      23 

JOB'S    CURSE. 
CHAPTER  in. 

AFTERAVAKD  Job  opened  his  moiitli  and 
cursed  his  day.     And  Job  answered  and 

said  : 

O  PERISH  the  day  in  wliich  I  was  born, 
And  the  night  that  said,  A  man  is  conceived . 
That  day— O  let  it  be  darkness! 
May  El(5ah  not  seek  it  from  heaven, 
And  o'er  it  let  brightness  not  sliine  ! 
5    May  darkness  and  gloom  redeem  it! 
Let  a  cloud  make  its  dwelling  upon  it! 
Affright  it  the  dark'nings  of  day! 
That  night— let  obscurity  seize  it! 
In  the  days  of  the  year  let  it  joy  not, 
Nor  come  into  the  number  of  months. 
Behold,  that  night— be  it  barren! 
A  joy-cry  enter  it  not! 
Let  the  cursers  of  day  curse  it, 
Those  ready  to  stir  up  the  dragon! 
Be  darkened  the  stars  of  its  dawmng; 
Let  it  wait  for  the  light,  and  there  be  none, 
And  dawn's  eyelashes  may  it  not  see! 
10    For  it  shut  not  the  doors  of  the  womb, 
And  hid  not  toil  from  my  eyes. 
Why  could  I  not  die  from  the  womb, 
From  the  womb  come  forth  to  expire? 
Wherefore  did  the  knees  come  to  meet  me. 


24  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

And  why  the  breasts,  that  I  sucked  ? 
For  now  I  had  lain  undisturbed, 
I  had  slept :  then  should  I  have  rest, 
AVith  kings  and  with  councillors  high, 
Who  built  for  themselves  mausoleums  ; 

15    Or  with  princes  possessed  of  gold, 
Who  filled  up  their  houses  with  silver. 
As  a  still-birth,  hid,  I'd  not  be  ; 
As  babes  who  have  not  seen  the  light. 
The  wicked  have  ceased  there  from  troubling, 
And  there  are  the  weary  at  rest. 
Together  in  peace  are  the  captives, 
They  hear  not  a  taskmaster's  voice. 
There  small  and  great  are  the  same. 
And  the  servant  is  free  from  his  lord. 

20    Wherefore  gives  He  light  to  the  weary. 
And  life  to  the  bitter  of  soul  ? 
Who  hope  for  death,  but  there  is  none, 
Wlio  dig  for  it  more  than  for  treasure ; 
Who  joy  with  joy  exceeding. 
Who  exult  when  they  find  a  grave ; 
To  a  man  whose  pathway  is  hid. 
Whom  Eldah  hath  hedged  round  about. 
For  instead  of  my  bread  my  sigh  doth  come, 
And  my  roarings  are  poured  out  like  waters. 

25    If  I  sorely  fear,  it  befalls  me ; 

And  that  which  I  dread  comes  upon  me. 
I  have  not  peace,  or  quiet,  or  rest ; 
Yet  trouble  comes. 


.1  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      25 


THE    FIRST    CYCLE    OF    THE    POEM 


A 


Eliphaz. 
CHAPTER    IV. 
ND  Eliphaz  the  Temanite  answered  aiid 
said : 


SHOULD    one    venture    a   word    unto   thee, 

wouldst  thou  fret  ? 
But  to  hold  back  his  words  who  is  able  ? 
Lo,  many  hast  thou  corrected, 
And  feeble  hands  hast  made  strong ; 
Him  who  staggered  thy  words  did  restore, 
Thou  confirmedst  the  tottering  knees : 

5    But  now  unto  thee  it  doth  come,  and  thou  f  rettest, 
It  reaches  to  thee,  and  thou'rt  frightened. 
Is  not  thy  true  fear  thy  reliance  ; 
And  thy  hope,  thine  innocent  ways  ? 
Think  now,  what  just  one  has  perished, 
And  where  were  the  upright  cut  off  ? 
As  I  see,  the  ploughers  of  falsehood 
And  sowers  of  mischief — they  reap  it. 
By  the  breath  of  Eldah  they  perish, 
By  the  wind  of  liis  anger  they  vanish. 

10    Lion's  cry  and  the  voice  of  the  roarer, 
And  the  young  lions'  teeth  are  broken. 
The  strong  one  dies  without  prey. 
And  the  whelps  of  the  Honess  scatter. 


26  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Now  a  word  came  stealing  upon  me, 
And  my  ear  caught  the  murmur  thereof 
In  thoughts  from  the  visions  of  night, 
When  falleth  on  men  heavy  sleep. 
Fear  fell  upon  me  and  terror, 
And  caused  all  my  bones  to  shake. 

15    And  a  wind  goes  floating  before  me ; 
The  hair  of  my  flesh  riseth  up. 
It  stands,  but  I  know  not  its  shape ; 
A  form  is  before  my  eyes, 
A  whisper  and  voice  I  hear : 
"  Can  a  mortal  be  juster  than  God, 
Or  a  man  than  his  Maker  more  pure ! 
Behold,  in  His  servants  He  trusts  not. 
And  chargeth  His  angels  with  error : 
Much  more  the  clay-house  dwellers, 
Who  have  their  foundation  in  dust, 
Who  are  crushed  for  a  moth. 

20    From  morning  till  eve  they  are  shattered. 
Unnoticed  they  perish  forever. 
When  their  tent-cord  within  them  is  loosed, 
They  die,  do  they  not  ?  in  unwisdom." 


CHAPTER  V. 

r^  ALL  now,  is  there  any  to  hear  thee  ? 
^— ^   And  to  which  holy  one  wilt  thou  turn  ? 
Nay,  anger  slayeth  a  fool. 
And  a  simple  one  passion  doth  kill. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      27 

I  myself  saw  a  fool  taking  root, 
And  straightway  I  cursed  his  abode. 
His  sons  are  far  distant  from  help, 
And  are  crushed  in  the  gate,  while  none  saves. 
5    Whose  harvest  the  hungry  doth  eat, 
And  plucketh  it  e'en  from  the  thorns, 
And  a  noose  doth  seize  on  their  wealth. 
For  sorrow  comes  not  from  the  dust, 
Nor  doth  trouble  spring  out  of  the  ground. 
Nay,  man  unto  trouble  is  born. 
As  the  children  of  flame  fly  aloft. 
Yet  I  would  seek  unto  El, 
And  bring  my  cause  unto  God, 
Who  doeth  great  things,  and  past  searching, 
Miraculous  deeds  without  number ; 
10    Who  dispenseth  rain  on  the  earth. 
And  water  sends  over  the  fields. 
To  set  the  lowly  on  high. 
And  mourners  are  lifted  to  freedom  ; 
Who  frustrates  the  thoughts  of  the  crafty. 
That  their  hands  can  achieve  nothing  real ; 
Who  captures  the  wise  by  their  craft. 
And  the  plan  of  the  cunning  is  routed. 
By  day  they  light  upon  darkness. 
And  at  midday  they  grope  as  at  night. 
15    So  He  saves  from  their  sword-like  mouth. 
And  the  poor  from  the  hand  of  the  strong. 
So  hope  doth  arise  for  the  weak. 
And  iniquity  shutteth  its  mouth. 


28  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Lo,  happy  the  man  whom  Eldah  corrects, 

And  th'  Ahnighty's  reproof  do  not  scorn. 

For  when  He  wounds,  He  binds  up ; 

He  hurts,  and  His  hands  do  heal. 

In  six  distresses  He'll  save  thee, 

And  in  seven  shall  touch  thee  no  evil. 
20    In  famine  He  saves  thee  from  death, 

And  in  war  from  the  might  of  the  sword. 

At  the  scourge  of  the  tongue  thou  shalt  hide, 

Shalt  not  fear  when  oppression  comes. 

Thou  shalt  laugh  at  destruction  and  hunger, 

And  the  beast  of  the  field,  fear  thou  not. 

For  with  stones  of  the  field  is  thy  league. 

And  with  thee  the  wild  beast  is  at  peace. 

And  thou'lt  know  that  'tis  well  with  thy  tent, 

Shalt  thy  dwelling  inspect,  nor  miss  aught ; 
25    And  shalt  know  that  great  is  thy  seed, 

And  thine  offspring  as  grass  of  the  earth. 

Thou  shalt  come  to  the  grave  in  strength, 

As  a  sheaf  goeth  up  in  its  time. 

Lo,  this  we  have  searched :  thus  it  is. 

Observe  it,  and  know  for  thyself. 


A 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      29 

Job. 
CHAPTER  VL 
ND  Job  answered  and  said  : 


O  THAT  fully  weighed  were  my  plaint, 

And  my  woe  too  held  up  in  the  scales ! 

For  now  it  would  weigh  down  the  sand  of  the 


seas: 


Therefore  did  my  words  speak  rasldy. 

For  th'  Almighty's  arrows  are  in  me, 

Whose  poison  my  spirit  doth  drink ; 

God's  terrors  are  ordered  against  me. 
5    Doth  a  wild  ass  bray  over  grass. 

Or  loweth  an  ox  o'er  his  fodder  ? 

Can  one  eat  what  is  stale,  not  salted  ? 

Is  there  taste  in  the  white  of  an  egg? 

My  soul  refuseth  to  touch  them ; 

As  the  taint  of  my  food  are  they. 

O  that  my  request  might  come, 

And  Eldah  my  hope  would  grant! 

That  Eldah  would  will  to  crush  me, 

Loose  His  hand,  and  so  cut  me  off ! 
10    Then  should  my  solace  still  be — 

And  I'd  joy  in  pain  that  He  spares  not— 

That  I  hid  not  the  Holy  One's  words. 

What's  my  strength,  that  I  should  have  hope, 

What  my  end,  that  I  should  be  calm  ? 


30  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

My  strength — is  it  strength  of  stones, 

Or  is  the  flesh  on  me  brass  ? 

Or  am  I  not  utterly  heljDless, 

And  is  not  true  strength  thrust  from  me  ? 

Love  is  due  the  oppressed  from  his  friend, 

Though  the  fear  of  th'  Ahnighty  he  leaves. 
15    As  a  brook  are  my  brethren  deceitful. 

As  the  bed  of  vanishing  brooks. 

Which  fail  by  reason  of  ice. 

While  the  snow  hides  itself  upon  them. 

When  they  are  troubled,  they  vanish ; 

Is  it  hot,  they  dry  up  from  their  place. 

The  caravans  alter  their  course, 

They  ascend  in  the  desert,  and  perish. 

The  bands  out  of  Tema  beheld. 

The  trav'lers  of  Sheba  longed  for  them. 
20    They  blushed  because  they  confided, 

They  came  there,  and  shame  was  upon  them. 

For  now  ye  are  like  unto  it : 

Ye  see  something  frightful,  and  fear. 

Is't  that  I  have  said.  Give  to  me, 

And  out  of  your  wealth  make  me  gifts  ? 

Or  rescue  me  out  of  distress. 

And  save  me  from  tyrants'  hand  ? 

Instruct  me,  and  I  will  be  silent ; 

Wherein  I  have  erred  make  me  know. 
25    How  pleasant  are  straightforward  words ! 

Yet  what  doth  your  proving  prove  ? 

Mere  words  do  ye  seek  to  refute  ? 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      31 

But  a  crazy  man's  words  are  the  wind's. 
Ye  would  even  cast  lots  o'er  an  orphan, 
And  bargain  over  your  friend. 
But  now  be  pleased  to  look  on  me, 
And,  indeed,  I'd  not  lie  to  your  face. 
Turn  now,  let  there  not  be  a  wrong ; 
Yea,  turn,  my  right's   in  it  still. 
30    Is  iniquity  under  my  tongue. 
Or  cannot  my  palate  tell  evil  ? 

CHAPTER  VIL 
T  T  AS  not  mortal  a  warfare  on  earth, 
^  ■■•   And  his  days — are  they  not  as  a  hireling's  ? 
As  a  servant  who  longs  for  the  shadow. 
And  a  hireling  who  waits  for  his  pay : 
So  I  have  received  months  of  ill, 
Sad  nights  have  been  counted  to  me. 
As  I  lay  me  to  rest,  then  I  say. 
When  rise  I  ?  but  eve  groweth  long, 
And  till  dawn  I  am  full  of  tossings. 
5    My  flesh  is  clothed  with  worms  and  earth-clods, 
My  skin  groweth  hard,  and  then  breaks. 
My  days  fly  more  swift  than  a  shuttle. 
And  they  vanish  away  without  hope. 
Reflect  that  my  life  is  a  breath ; 
Not  again  shall  my  eye  behold  good. 
Eye  that  sees  me  shall  see  me  no  more  : 
Upon  me  are  Thine  eyes,  and  I'm  not. 
As  a  cloud  melts  away  and  is  gone, 


32  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

So  who  goes  to  Shedl  shall  not  rise  ; 
10    He  shall  not  come  again  to  his  house, 

And  his  place  shall  know  him  no  more. 

I  also  will  not  hold  my  peace, 

I  will  speak  in  my  sjiirit's  distress, 

Will  lament  in  my  anguish  of  soul. 

A  sea  am  I,  am  I  a  whale, 

That  a  watch  Thou  should'st  set  over  me  ? 

When  I  say  that  my  couch  shall  console  me, 

My  bed  shall  ease  my  complaint ; 

Then  with  dreams  Thou  dost  frighten  me  sore, 

And  with  visions  dost  make  me  afraid. 
15    And  so  my  soul  prefers  strangling, — 
Death  before  my  bones  ! 

I  loathe  it !  I  would  not  live  alway : 

Cease  from  me,  for  vain  are  my  days. 

What  is  man  that  Thou  makest  him  great, 

And  settest  Thy  heart  upon  him  ? 

That  Thou  seekest  him  morning  by  morning. 

From  moment  to  moment  dost  prove  him  ? 

How  long  wilt  Thou  not  look  from  me, 

Not  desist  till  I  swallow  my  spittle  ? 
20    Have  I  sinned,  what  do  I  to  Thee, 
Observer  of  men ! 

Why  hast  Thou  set  me  for  Thine  onset, 

That  a  burden  I  am  to  myself  ? 

Why  wilt  Thou  not  pardon  my  trespass. 

And  cause  my  sin  to  pass  by  ? 

For  now  I  lie  down  in  the  dust. 

And  seekest  Thou  me,  I'll  not  be. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      33 


BiLDAD. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

AND    Bildacl   the    Shuliite    answered    and 
said; 

HOW  long  wilt  thou  utter  these  things, 

And  thy  words  be  a  violent  wind  ? 

As  for  God,  perverteth  He  judgment, 

And  th'  Almighty  pervert  what  is  right  ? 

If  thy  children  against  Him  transgressed, 

He  gave  them  o'er  to  their  sin. 
5    If  thou  dost  seek  unto  God, 

And  to  th'  Almighty  dost  pray ; 

If  clean  and  upright  thou  art : 

Yea,  then  will  He  rouse  up  o'er  thee. 

And  thy  righteous  dwelling  restore ; 

Thy  former  state  shall  be  small, 

And  thy  latter  become  very  great. 

For  ask  now  of  past  generations. 

And  seek  out  their  fathers'  deep  things ; 

For  of  yesterday  we,  and  we  know  not. 

Since  our  days  are  a  shadow  on  earth. 
10    Will  not  they  instruct  thee,  speak  to  thee. 

And  out  of  their  heart  bring  forth  words  ? 

Can  a  rush  grow  save  in  a  marsh. 

Can  a  flag  without  water  spring  up  ? 

'Tis  yet  fresh,  it  cannot  be  plucked, 

But  it  withers  before  any  plant : 


34  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Such  the  paths  of  all  who  leave  God, 
And  the  wicked  man's  hope  shall  die, 
He  whose  trust  is  a  fragile  thing. 
And  a  sjDider's  house  is  his  hoj^e. 

15    He  leans  on  his  house,  and  it  stands  not ; 
He  grasps  it,  it  doth  not  endure. 
He  is  full  of  sap  in  the  sunshine. 
And  his  shoots  o'er  his  garden  come  forth ; 
Round  a  mound  are  his  roots  interlaced. 
Between  the  stones  he  crowds  through. 
If  He  blots  liim  out  from  his  place. 
It  denies  him,  "  I  never  have  seen  thee." 
Lo,  that  is  the  joy  of  his  path, 
And  others  spring  forth  from  the  dust. 

20    Lo,  God  contemns  not  the  perfect. 

And  grasps  not  the  hand  of  the  wicked. 
He  will  yet  fill  thy  mouth  with  laughter, 
And  thy  lijDS  with  the  sound  of  joy. 
With  shame  shall  thy  haters  be  clothed. 
And  the  tent  of  the  wicked  shall  perish. 


A 


Job. 
CHAPTER  IX. 
ND  Job  answered  and  said: 


I  KNOW  of  a  truth  it  is  so  : 

How  can  mortal  be  righteous  with  God  ? 

Should  he  wish  to  contend  with  Him, 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.       35 

He  could  answ'r  Him  not  one  of  a  thousand. 

Wise  of  heart  and  strong  in  might, 

Who  has  dared  Him,  and  yet  remained  whole  ? 
o    Who  the  mountains  removes,  and  they  know  not, 

Because  in  His  wrath  He  o'erturned  them  ; 

Who  shaketh  the  earth  from  its  place. 

And  its  pillars  do  reel  to  and  fro ; 

Who  speaks  to  the  sun,  and  it  shines  not, 

And  setteth  a  seal  on  the  stars ; 

Who  sjDreads  out  the  heavens  alone, 

And  walks  o'er  the  heights  of  the  sea ; 

Who  maketh  the  Bear,  Orion, 

The  Cluster  and  Chambers  of  Teman  ; 
10    Who  doeth  great  things  beyond  searching, 

And  wonderful  deeds  without  number. 

Lo,  He  passeth  before  me,  I  see  not ; 

And  glides  by,  but  I  do  not  observe  him. 

Lo,  He  seizeth,  and  who  can  restrain  Him  ? 

Who  say  to  Him,  What  doest  Thou  ? 

Eldah  restrains  not  His  wrath  : 

Beneath  Him  have  bowed  Rahab's  helpers. 

Much  less  could  I  make  Him  an  answer. 

Could  choose  out  my  words  with  Him, 
15    I  who  could  not  rejjly,  had  I  right ; 

I  should  have  to  pray  to  my  Judge. 

Had  I  called,  and  He  made  me  an  answer ; 

I'd  not  trust  that  my  voice  He  had  heard, 

He  who  bruiseth  me  sore  with  a  tempest, 

And  adds  to  my  wounds  without  cause. 


36  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

He  suffers  me  not  to  take  breath, 

But  sates  me  with  bitternesses. 

If  the  strength  of  the  mighty  [decides],  "  Be- 
hold !  " 

Or  if  judgment,  "  Who  summoneth  me  ?" 
20    Were  I  righteous,  my  mouth  would  condemn  me ; 

Were  I  blameless,  would  prove  me  perverse. 

I  am  blameless  ! — care  not  for  my  soul ! 
I  abhor  my  life  ! 

'Tis  all  one,  and  so  I  declare  it : 

He  destroys  both  the  blameless  and  wicked. 

If  a  scourge  doth  suddenly  slay. 

The  despair  of  the  guiltless  He  mocks. 

Given  up  is  the  land  to  the  wicked ; 

The  face  of  its  judges  He  veils  : 
If  not,  who  then  is  it  ? 
25    And  my  days  are  swifter  than  couriers  ; 

They  flee,  they  see  nothing  good. 

They  glide  by  as  boats  of  bulrushes. 

As  an  eagle  swoops  down  on  its  prey. 

If  I  say,  I'll  forget  my  complaint. 

Will  relax  my  face  and  look  glad ; 

Then  I  shudder  at  all  of  my  pains, 

I  know  that  Thou  wilt  not  acquit  me. 
I  must  be  bad  ! 

Why  wear  myself  out  then  in  vain  ? 
30    If  I  should  wash  me  with  snow, 

And  with  potash  my  hands  should  make  clean ; 

Then  into  the  pit  Thou  wouldst  dip  me. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      37 

So  that  my  clothes  would  abhor  me. 
For  He  is  not  man  like  myself, 
That  I  might  reply  unto  Him, 
That  we  might  come  together  in  judgment. 
Between  us  there  standeth  no  judge. 
To  lay  his  hands  on  us  both. 
O  let  Him  take  from  me  His  rod, 
And  His  dread — let  it  not  cause  me  fear  ; 
35    Then  I'll  speak,  and  will  not  be  afraid ; 
For  I  am  not  thus  with  myself. 


CHAPTER  X. 
J\  A  Y  soul  is  sick  of  my  life ; 
^  *  *■  I  will  loosen  within  me  my  plaint, 
I  will  speak  in  my  anguish  of  soul, 
Say  to  God,  O  do  not  condemn  me ! 
Let  me  know  why  Thou  strivest  with  me. 
Is't  becoming  in  Thee  to  oppress. 
To  scorn  the  fine  work  of  Thy  hands. 
And  shine  on  the  counsel  of  sinners  ? 
Eyes  of  flesh  hast  Thou, 
As  the  seeing  of  man  dost  Thou  see  ? 
As  the  days  of  frail  man  are  Thy  days, 
Or  Thy  years  as  the  days  of  a  man  ? 
For  Thou  seekest  my  wickedness  out, 
And  Thou  searchest  after  my  sin ; 
Though  Thou  knowest  I  am  not  guilty. 
And  none  from  Thy  hand  can  release. 


38  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Thy  hands  did  fashion  and  form  me 

All  round,  and  Thou  blottest  me  out ! 

Call  to  mind  that  as  clay  Thou  didst  form  me, 

And  Thou  br ingest  me  back  to  the  dust ! 

10    Didst  Thou  not  pour  me  forth  as  milk, 
And  cause  me  to  thicken  like  curd  ? 
Thou  didst  clothe  me  with  skin  and  with  flesh, 
With  bones  and  with  sinews  didst  hedge  me ; 
Life  and  mercy  Thou  gavest  to  me, 
And  Thy  care  has  guarded  my  breath : 
Yet  this  Thou  didst  hide  in  Thy  heart, 
I  know  that  this  was  in  Thy  mind. 
If  I  sinned,  then  Thy  watch  was  upon  me, 
And  Thou  didst  not  acquit  me  of  wrong. 

15    If  I  wickedly  dealt,  woe  was  me  ! 

Were  I  just,  I  could  not  lift  my  head, 

Full  of  shame  and  seeing  my  gi'ief . 

If  it  rose.  Thou  didst  lion-like  hunt  me. 

And  dealt  with  me  strangely  again. 

Thou  renewedst  Thy  witnesses  'gainst  me 

And  increasedst  Thine  anger  at  me, 

Fresh  troops  and  an  army  against  me. 

And  why  brought'st  Thou  me  from  the  womb  ? 

I  ought  to  have  died,  and  unseen : 

As  had  I  not  been  I  should  be ; 

From  the  womb  to  the  grave  borne  away. 

20    Are  not  my  days  few  ?     Let  him  cease, 
Turn  away  that  I  cheer  up  a  little. 
Ere  I  go — and  I  shall  not  return — 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      89 

To  a  land  of  darkness  and  gloom, 
To  a  land  of  blackness  like  midnight, 
[A  land]  of  gloom  and  disorder, 

Where  it  shineth  like  midnight. 


A 


ZOPHAR. 
CHAPTER    XL 
ND  Zophar  the  Naamathite  answered  and 
said : 

SHOULD  a  myriad  of  words  go  unanswered, 

And  a  man  of  mere  talk  be  held  just  ? 

Thy  boastings,  they  bring  men  to  silence ; 

And  so  thou  dost  mock  unrebuked. 

And  thou  sayest.  My  doctrine  is  pure, 

And  clean  have  I  been  in  Thine  eyes. 

And  yet,  O  that  Eldah  would  speak. 

And  would  open  His  lips  with  thee ; 

And  would  tell  thee  the  deep  things  of  wisdom. 

That  twofold  in  counsel  they  are ; 

And  know  that  God  drops  for  thee  part  of  thy 

sin. 
Canst  thou  find  out  the  depth  of  El<5ah, 
Or  fathom  th'  Almighty's  perfection  ? 
Heights  of  heaven !  what  canst  thou  do  ? 
Than  She  61  it  is  deeper  !  what  know  ? 
Its  measure  is  longer  than  earth. 
And  broader  is  it  than  the  sea. 


40  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

10    When  He  glideth  by  and  arrests, 

And  summons  to  judgment,  who  stays  Him  ? 

For  men  of  mischief  He  knows, 

And  badness  He  easily  sees  : 

So  a  hollow  head  might  grow  wise, 

And  a  wild  ass's  foal  become  man. 

If  thou  dost  make  ready  thy  heart, 

And  spread  out  thy  palms  unto  Hhn  ; — 

Is  there  sin  in  thy  hand,  cast  it  hence. 

Nor  let  wickedness  dwell  in  thy  tents ; 

15    Yea,  then  shalt  thou  lift  uj)  thy  face  without 
stain, 
Shalt  be  steadfast,  nor  have  any  fear. 
For  trouble  shalt  thou  forget, 
Shalt  remember  as  waters  that  pass : 
And  life  shall  rise  brighter  than  midday ; 
Is  there  gloom,  it  shall  be  as  the  morning. 
And  thou  shalt  trust,  for  there's  hope  ; 
Thou  shalt  s^^y  round,  shalt  lie  down  secure. 
Thou  shalt  rest  with  none  making  afraid. 
And  many  thy  face  shall  caress. 

20    But  the  eyes  of  the  wicked  languish. 
And  refuge  has  ceased  for  them  : 
Their  hope  is  to  breathe  out  the  soul. 


A 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      41 

Job. 
CHAPTER  XII. 
ND  Job  answered  and  said  : 


OF  a  truth,  now,  ye  are  the  people, 

And  wisdom  will  perish  with  you  ! 

Even  I  have  a  mind,  as  you  have  ; 

Not  second  am  I  unto  you : 

But  who  does  not  know  things  like  these  ? 

A  jest  for  his  friend,  that  am  I ! 

One  who  called  upon  God  and  was  heard, 

The  righteous,  the  upright  a  jest ! 
5    111  has  scorn  in  the  lucky  man's  thought ; 

It  is  ready  for  tottering  feet. 

In  peace  are  the  robbers'  tents, 

And  provokers  of  God  have  rest, 

He  who  takes  in  his  hand  Eldah. 

But  ask  now  the  beasts,  and  they  shall  instruct 
thee. 

And  the  fowl  of  the  heaven,  and  they  shall  thee 
teU: 

Or  speak  to  the  earth,  and  it  shall  instruct  thee, 

And  relate  it  to  thee  shall  the  fish  of  the  sea : 

Who  knows  not  in  all  of  these  things 

That  the  might  of  Jehovah  hath  done  this, 
10    In  whose  hand  is  the  breath  of  all  creatures, 

And  the  spirit  of  all  human  flesh  ? 

The  ear,  should  it  not  try  words, 


42  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

As  the  palate  tasteth  its  food  ? 

Among  aged  men  there  is  wisdom, 

And  with  length  of  days  understanding. 

With  Him  is  wisdom  and  might ; 

To  Him  belong  counsel  and  prudence. 
15    Behold,  He  pulls  down,  and  it  is  not  built  up ; 

He  locks  up  a  man,  and  the  door  is  not  opened 

Lo,  He  shuts  in  the  waters,  and  they  are  dried  up 

Sends  them  forth,  they  destroy  the  earth. 

With  Him  is  strength  and  true  wisdom, 

Deceived  and  deceiver  are  His, 

Who  leads  away  councillors  barefoot, 

And  judges  He  rendereth  fools  ; 

The  fetter  of  kings  He  doth  loose, 

And  bindeth  a  belt  round  their  loins ; 

Who  leads  away  priests  without  shoes, 

And  causeth  the  ancient  to  fall ; 
20    Who  takes  away  speech  from  the  trusty. 

And  depriveth  the  elders  of  judgment ; 

Who  poureth  out  scorn  upon  princes, 

And  looseth  the  belt  of  the  strong ; 

Who  uncovers  the  depths  out  of  darkness. 

And  bringeth  thick  gloom  unto  light ; 

Who  exalteth  the  nations,  and  smites  them ; 

Who  enlargeth  the  nations,  and  bans  them  ; 

Who  disheartens  the  leaders  of  earth, 

Makes  them  stray  in  a  patliless  waste. 

They  grope  in  the  gloom  without  light. 

He  lets  them  stray  like  a  drunkard. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      43 

CHAPTER  XIIL 

BEHOLD,  mine  eye  hath  seen  all ; 
Mine  ear  hath  heard,  and  hath  marked  it. 
As  you  know,  I  also  do  know ; 
Not  second  am  I  unto  you. 
Yet  I  to  th'  Ahnighty  would  speak, 
And  would  like  to  reason  with  God. 
But  ye  are  devisers  of  falsehood ; 
Menders  with  Ues  are  ye  all. 
5    O  would  you  but  keep  utter  silence, 
And  that  should  serve  you  as  wisdom. 
I  pray  you,  hear  my  rejDroof , 
And  heed  the  rebukes  of  my  lips. 
Will  ye  speak  what  is  bad  for  God's  sake, 
And  for  Him  will  ye  utter  deceit  ? 

WiU  ye  flatter  Him, 

Will  ye  plead  for  God  ? 
Is  it  good  He  should  thoroughly  search  you  ? 
Or  as  one  mocks  a  man  mock  ye  Him  ? 
10    Right  sharply  will  he  rebuke  you. 
If  secretly  ye  are  partial. 
Will  not  His  majesty  fright  you. 
And  upon  you  His  terror  descend  ? 
Your  maxims  are  proverbs  of  ashes  ; 
Your  defences,  defences  of  clay. 
Give  me  silence,  that  I  may  speak, 
And  let  come  upon  me  what  may. 
Why  bear  I  my  flesh  in  my  teeth, 
And  take  my  life  in  my  hand  ? 


44  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

15    Behold,  He  will  slay  me  ;  I  hope  not : 
But  my  ways  I  will  prove  to  His  face. 
This  too  is  deliv'rance  for  me, 
That  a  wicked  one  comes  not  before  Him. 

0  hearken  well  to  my  word, 
And  be  my  defence  in  your  ears. 
Lo,  now  I  have  ordered  the  suit ; 

1  know  I  shall  stand  justified. 
Who  is  he  that  can  argue  with  me  ? 
For  now  I  would  hush  and  expire. 

20    But  two  things  do  not  unto  me, 

Then  will  I  not  hide  from  Thy  face : 
Thy  hand  from  upon  me  remove, 
And  let  not  Thy  dread  cause  me  fear. 
Then  call  Thou,  and  I  will  reply : 
Or  I'll  speak,  and  answer  Thou  me. 
My  crimes  and  my  sins  are  how  many  ? 
Make  me  know  my  transgi^ession  and  sin. 
Wherefore  dost  Thou  cover  Thy  face, 
And  why  dost  Thou  count  me  Thy  foe  ? 

25    The  wind-tossed  leaf  wilt  Thou  scare, 
And  chase  the  dry  stubble  away  ? 
For  Thou  writest  against  me  harsh  things, 
Mak'st  me  heir  of  the  sins  of  my  youth. 
And  Thou  puttest  my  feet  in  the  stocks. 
And  dost  carefully  watch  all  my  ways ; 
Mak'st  a  line  round  the  soles  of  my  feet, — 
I  who  fail  like  a  worm-eaten  thing, 
As  a  garment  that  moths  have  consumed. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      45 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  man  of  woman  born. 
Short  lived  and  full  of  unrest ! 
He  comes  forth  as  a  flower,  and  is  withered ; 
Like  a  shadow  he  fleeth,  and  stays  not. 
E'en  on  tliis  Thou  hast  opened  Thine  eyes, 
And  brought  me  to  judgment  with  Thee ! 
O  came  a  clean  one  from  unclean ! 
Not  one! 
5    If  a  limit  is  set  to  his  days, 

His  number  of  moons  known  to  Thee ; 
His  bounds  Thou  hast  set  that  he  pass  not ; 
Turn  away  from  him  that  he  rest, 
Till  he  joy  in  his  day  as  a  hireling. 
For  there  is  hope  for  the  tree ; 
If  felled,  it  still  can  sprout  forth, 
And  its  tender  shoot  doth  not  fail. 
Though  its  root  should  grow  old  in  the  earth, 
And  its  stump  should  die  in  the  dust ; 
At  the  scent  of  water  it  sprouteth, 
And  bringeth  forth  shoots  like  a  plant. 
10    But  a  man  doth  die,  and  is  prostrate : 
When  a  mortal  expires,  where  is  he  ? 
The  waters  do  fail  from  the  sea. 
And  a  stream  groweth  utterly  dry ; 
So  a  man  lieth  down,  not  to  rise : 
Till  the  skies  be  no  more,  they  awake  not, 
And  are  roused  not  up  from  their  sleep. 


46  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

O  that  in  Shedl  Thou  woukl'st  hide  me, 

Conceal  me  till  past  be  Thy  wrath, 

Wouldest  set  me  a  bound  and  recall  me ! 

If  man  die,  shall  he  live  again  ? 

All  the  days  of  my  warfare  I'd  wait, 

Until  my  release  should  come. 
15    Thou  wouldst  call,  and  to  Thee  I'd  reply ; 

For  the  work  of  Thy  hands  Thou  wouldst  yearn. 

But  now  Thou  countest  my  steps. 

Dost  Thou  not  spy  out  my  sin  ? 

My  transgression  is  sealed  in  a  bag, 

And  Thou  fastenest  up  my  sin. 

But  a  mountain  that  falleth  is  shattered, 

And  a  rock  is  removed  from  its  place ; 

The  waters  do  wear  away  stones. 

Its  floods  sweep  the  earth's  dust  away : 

And  the  hope  of  frail  man  Thou  destroyest. 
20    Thousubdu'st  him  for  aye,  and  he  goes  ; 

Marring  his  face  Thou  reject'st  him. 

If  his  sons  come  to  honor,  he  knows  not ; 

And  regards  them  not  if  despised. 

His  flesh  only  on  him  is  pained. 

And  his  soul  within  him  doth  weep. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      47 


THE  SECOND  CYCLE  OF  THE  POEM 


A 


Eliphaz. 
CHAPTER  XV. 
ND  Eliphaz  the  Temanite  answered  and 
said  : 

SHOULD  a  wise  man  reply  with  vain  knowledge, 

And  with  winds  from  the  east  fill  his  breast, 

Striving  with  words  unavailing. 

And  with  speeches  by  which  he  serves  naught  ? 

Thou  art  even  destroying  fear. 

And  diminishing  prayer  before  God. 
5    For  thy  wickedness  teacheth  thy  mouth, 

And  thou  choosest  the  tongue  of  the  subtle. 

Thy  mouth,  not  I,  condemns  thee. 

And  against  thee  bear  witness  thy  lips. 

As  the  first  of  men  wast  thou  born, 

And  before  the  hills  wast  brought  forth  ? 

In  the  council  of  God  didst  thou  listen. 

And  wisdom  withdraw  to  thyself  ? 

What  dost  thou  know  that  we  know  not. 

What  markest  that  is  not  with  us  ? 
10    With  us  are  the  hoary  and  aged, 

Exceeding  thy  father  in  days. 

Too  little  for  thee  are  God's  comforts, 

And  a  word  gently  spoken  with  thee  ?  * 

Wherefore  does  thy  heart  bear  thee  on, 


48  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

And  why  roll  thine  eyes  to  and  fro  ? 
That  thou  turnest  thy  spirit  'gainst  God, 
And  mere  words  bringest  forth  from  thy  mouth. 
What  is  mortal,  that  he  should  be  clean. 
That  the  woman-born  one  should  be  just  ? 

15    Behold,  in  His  pure  ones  He  trusts  not. 
And  the  heavens  are  not  clean  in  His  eyes  : 
Much  less  is  the  vile  and  corrupt, 
A  man  who  drinks  mischief  like  water. 

I  will  teach  thee ;  heed  me  : 
And  what  I  have  seen  I  will  tell. 
That  which  wise  men  have  declared 
From  their  fathers,  and  have  not  hid. 
To  them  was  the  land  wholly  given. 
And  there  passed  not  among  them  a  stranger. 

20    The  wicked  man  is  in  pain  all  his  days. 

And  the  sum  of  the  years  reserved  for  the  tyrant. 

A  terrible  sound  in  his  ears — 

In  peace  comes  the  robber  upon  him. 

He  expects  no  return  from  the  darkness. 

And  chosen  is  he  for  the  sword. 

He  roams  for  his  bread,  "  Ah  where !  " 

He  knows  that  near  by  stands  the  day  of  gloom. 

Distress  and  anxiety  fright  him  ; 

It  vanquishes  him  like  a  lance-trained  king. 

25    For  he  stretched  out  his  hand  against  God. 
Was  defiant  against  the  Almighty. 
»    He  ran  with  the  neck  against  Him, 
With  the  bosses  thick  of  his  shields ; 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      49 

For  he  covered  his  face  with  his  fat, 

And  fatness  he  put  on  the  loin. 

And  he  dwelt  in  cities  laid  waste, 

In  houses  where  men  should  not  live. 

Which  in  ruins  were  destined  to  lie. 

He  shall  save  not ;  his  wealth  shall  not  stand  ; 

Nor  their  substance  bend  down  to  the  ground. 
30    He  doth  not  escape  from  the  darkness ; 

A  flame  doth  wither  his  branch ; 

He  departs  by  the  breath  of  His  mouth. 

Let  him  trust  not  in  wrong,  he's  deceived ; 

For  wrong  shall  be  his  exchange. 

It  is  finished,  or  e'er  his  day  comes. 

And  his  curving  branch  is  not  green. 

He  shakes  off  as  the  vine  his  sour  grapes. 

And  casts  as  the  olive  his  bloom. 

For  the  clan  of  the  godless  is  barren. 

And  fire  eats  up  the  tents  of  corruption* 
35    They  mischief  conceive,  and  bear  sin, 

And  deceit  they  devise  in  their  breast. 


A 


Job. 
CHAPTER  XVI. 
ND  Job  answered  and  said : 


MANY  things  like  these  I  have  heard ; 
Ye  all  are  wretched  consolers. 
Have  windy  discourses  an  end. 


50  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Or  what  excites  thee  to  answer  ? 
I  also  could  speak  as  you  do, 
If  your  soul  were  in  place  of  my  own ; 
Could  put  words  together  against  you, 
And  over  you  shake  my  head ; 
5    I  could  give  you  help  with  my  mouth, 
And  my  lips'  compassion  would  soothe  you. 
Will  I  speak,  my  pain  is  not  soothed  ; 
If  I  cease,  in  what  am  I  eased  ? 
But  now  he  hath  wearied  me  sore  : 
Thou  hast  wasted  aU  of  my  house ; 
And  hast  seized  me — it  was  for  a  witness  ; 
And  against  me  my  leanness  arose, 

To  my  face  it  accused. 
His  anger  tore,  and  He  fought  me  ; 
He  gnashed  upon  me  His  teeth : 
My  foe  whets  His  eyes  against  me. 
10    They  opened  against  me  their  mouths ; 
My  cheeks  they  shamefully  smote : 
They  fill  up  their  ranks  against  me. 
God  doth  give  me  over  to  fools, 
And  hurls  me  to  hand  of  the  wicked. 
Secure  was  I,  and  He  crushed  me  ; 
He  seized  on  my  neck,  then  He  brake  me, 
And  He  set  me  up  for  His  mark. 
His  archers  encompass  me  round. 
He  cleaveth  my  loins  and  spares  not, 
He  poureth  my  gall  on  the  ground. 
He  breaks  me  with  breach  upon  breach. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      51 

He  runs  like  a  warrior  upon  me. 
15    Sackcloth  I  sewed  o'er  my  skin, 

And  defiled  my  horn  in  the  dust ; 

My  face  hotly  glows  from  my  weeping, 

On  my  eyelashes  lieth  deep  shade : 

Though  wrong  there  is  not  in  my  pahns, 

And  my  supplication  is  pure. 

O  earth,  do  not  cover  my  blood. 

And  be  there  no  place  for  my  cry ! 

E'en  now,  behold,  in  heaven  my  witness. 
In  the  heights  my  afiiant! 
20  My  friends  are  my  mockers  ; 

To  Eldah  my  eye  doth  weep. 

To  decide  for  a  man  by  Eldah, 

For  the  son  of  man  'gainst  his  friend. 

For  very  few  years  will  come, 

And  a  way  I  shall  go  once  for  all. 


M^ 


CHAPTER  XVIL 
Y  spirit  is  broken, 
My  days  are  extinct. 
The  graveyard  is  mine. 
Of  a  truth,  there  are  mockings  around  me, 
And  mine  eye  on  their  quarrel  must  dwell ! 
Give  a  pledge,  be  my  bail  with  Thyself ! 
Who  else  will  strike  hands  with  me  ? 
For  their  heart  Thou  hast  hidden  from  knowl- 
edge; 


52  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Therefore  Thou  wilt  not  lift  them  ujd. 
5     One  informs  against  friends  for  a  portion, 
Wliile  the  eyes  of  his  own  children  fail. 
And  I'm  made  a  byword  for  all, 
And  a  thing  of  contempt  I  must  be ; 
So  my  eye  from  sorrow  grows  dim, 
And  my  limbs  are  all  like  a  shadow. 
Astonished  at  this  are  the  upright, 
And  the  pure  is  aroused  'gainst  the  godless. 
Yet  a  righteous  one  holds  on  his  way, 
And  a  man  of  clean  hands  addeth  strength. 
10    But  now,  come  ye  all  again,  I  pray, 
I  shall  find  not  a  wise  man  among  you. 

My  days  are  passed. 

My  plans  cut  off, 

The  wealth  of  my  heart. 
The  night  they  explain  as  day  : 
Light  is  nearer  than  manifest  darkness. 
If  I  hope  for  Shedl  as  my  house. 
Have  spread  in  the  darkness  my  couch, 
Have  called  to  the  grave,  Thou'rt  my  Father ! 
My  mother  !   my  sister !   to  worms  : 
15    Then  where,  O  where  is  my  hope  ; 

Yea,  my  hope,  who  shall  ever  behold  it  ? 
To  the  bars  of  She^l  they  go  down. 
When  at  once  there  is  rest  in  the  dust. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.       53 


BiLDAD. 

CHAPTER  XVIIL 

AND    Bildad   the    Sliuhite    answered    and 
said : 

HOW  long  will  ye  lay  the  snares  for  words  ? 

Consider,  and  then  we  will  speak. 

Wherefore  are  we  held  as  a  beast, 

Accounted  unclean  in  your  eyes  ? 

One  who  teareth  himself  in  his  wrath, — 

Shall  the  earth  be  laid  waste  for  thy  sake, 

And  a  rock  be  removed  from  its  place  ? 
5    Yet  the  Hght  of  the  wicked  expires. 

And  the  flame  of  his  fire  doth  not  shine. 

The  light  in  his  tent  has  grown  dark, 

And  his  lamp  above  him  expires. 

The  steps  of  his  strength  are  straightened, 

And  his  own  advice  casts  him  down. 

For  his  own  feet  do  ensnare  him. 

And  he  walketh  over  the  toils. 

A  gin  layeth  hold  on  his  heel, 

A  noose  doth  fasten  upon  him. 
10    Concealed  on  the  ground  is  its  cord. 

And  its  net  is  hid  on  his  path. 

Fears  make  him  afraid  round  about, 

And  scare  him  away,  pursuing. 

Hungry  becometh  liis  trouble, 

And  calamity  waits  at  his  side. 


54  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

There  eateth  the  limbs  of  his  frame, 
Eats  his  members  the  first-born  of  death. 
He  is  dragged  from  his  tent,  his  trust ; 
To  the  king  of  terrors  must  march. 

15    There  abides  in  his  tent  what  he  owns  not, 
O'er  his  dweUing-place  brimstone  is  sown. 
Beneath,  his  roots  are  dried  up. 
And  his  branch  is  withered  above. 
His  memory  fades  from  the  earth. 
And  nameless  is  he  o'er  the  plain. 
They  drive  him  from  light  into  darkness. 
And  thrust  him  out  of  the  world. 
Not  a  sprout  has  he,  nor  shoot  in  his  tribe, 
And  there's  no  escaped  one  in  his  tents. 

20    The  West  is  amazed  at  his  day. 
And  shuddering  seizes  the  East. 
Yea,  these  are  the  homes  of  the  wicked, 
And  this  is  the  godless  man's  place. 


A 


Job. 
CHAPTER  XIX. 
ND  Job  answered  and  said  : 


HOW  long  will  ye  weary  my  soul. 
And  crush  me  down  with  words  ? 
Already  ten  times  ye  revile  me, 
Unblushingly  ye  deride  me. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      55 

Yet,  verily,  if  I  have  erred, 

With  me  shall  my  error  abide. 
5    If  indeed  ye  will  boast  against  me. 

And  ^^^ll  prove  against  me  my  shame  ; 

Then  know  that  El(5ah  hath  wronged  me, 

And  me  in  His  net  hath  enclosed. 

Lo,  I  cry  out.  Oppression  !  but  am  not  heard  ; 

Call  for  help,  but  right  there  is  none. 

My  way  He  hath  hedged  that  I  pass  not, 

And  darkness  He  puts  on  my  paths. 

My  glory  from  me  He  hath  stripped, 

And  put  off  the  crown  from  my  head. 
10    He  destroys  me  all  round,  and  I  go  ; 

And  He  tears  up  my  hope  like  a  tree  ; 

And  He  kindles  against  me  His  wrath, 

Esteems  me  for  Him  as  His  foes. 

Together  His  troops  come  on, 

And  cast  up  against  me  their  way. 

And  encamp  round  about  my  tent. 

He  has  put  my  brothers  far  from  me. 

And  my  friends  are  but  foreign  to  me. 
My  kinsmen  have  ceased. 

And  forgotten  me  they  whom  I  knew. 
15    They  who  lodge  in  my  house,  and  my  maids, 
Esteem  me  as  foreign, 

A  stranger  am  I  in  their  eyes. 

I  call  to  my  servant  unanswered ; 

With  my  mouth  I  must  pray  unto  him. 

My  breath  to  my  wife  is  offensive. 


56  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

And  my  sigh  to  the  sons  of  my  flesh. 

Even  young  children  despise  me  ; 

Do  I  rise,  then  against  me  they  sj^eak. 

All  my  intimate  friends  abhor  me, 

And  those  I  have  loved  turn  against  me. 
20    To  my  skin  and  my  flesh  my  bone  doth  cleave, 

I  escape  with  the  skin  of  my  teeth. 

Pity  me,  pity  me,  ye  my  friends  ! 

For  the  hand  of  E16ah  hath  touched  me. 

O  why  pursue  me  like  God, 

And  be  not  filled  with  my  flesh  ? 

O  now  that  my  words  were  writ  dovv^n, 

O  were  they  inscribed  in  the  book ! 

With  an  iron  pen  and  with  lead 

Forever  engraved  in  the  rock ! 
25    But  I  know  my  Redeemer  doth  live, 

And  later  shall  rise  o'er  the  dust. 

Then  after  my  skin,  thus  beat  off, 

And  free  from  my  flesh,  I'll  see  God ; 

Whom  I  for  myself  shall  see. 

And  mine  eyes  behold,  and  no  stranger. 

My  reins  pine  with  longing  within  me. 

If  ye  say.  How  can  we  pursue  him, 

As  the  root  of  the  thing  is  found  in  me : 

Then  be  ye  afraid  of  the  sword ; 

For  a  fire  are  sins  of  the  sword. 

That  ye  may  know  there's  a  judgment. 


A 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.       57 

ZOPHAR. 
CHAPTER  XX. 
ND  Zophar  the  Naamathite  answered  and 
said : 


THEREFORE  do  my  thouglits  give  me  answer, 

Aiid  for  this  is  the  impulse  within  me. 

Reproof  to  my  shame  I  must  hear ! 

But  the  mind  answers  me  from  my  insight. 

Know'st  thou  tliis  wliich  is  from  everlasting, 

From  the  placing  of  man  on  the  earth, 
5    That  the  joy  of  the  wicked  is  brief, 

And  swift  the  delight  of  the  godless  ? 

Though  his  greatness  should  mount  up  to  heaven, 

And  his  head  should  attain  to  the  clouds ; 

Like  liis  dung  he  shall  perish  forever, 

Who  see  him  shall  say.  Where  is  he  ? 

Like  a  dream  he  flies  off  and  is  found  not. 

Scared  away  as  a  vision  of  night. 

Eye  beheld  him,  but  shall  not  again ; 

And  his  place  shall  see  him  no  more. 
10    His  sons  must  ap^Dease  the  poor. 

And  his  hands  must  give  back  his  wealth. 

His  bones  were  full  of  liis  youth ; 

Now  it  rests  with  him  in  the  dust. 

If  evil  is  sweet  in  his  mouth, 

If  he  hides  it  under  his  tongue. 

If  he  spares  it  and  lets  it  not  loose, 


58  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

And  keeps  it  back  in  his  throat ; 

His  bread  in  his  bowels  is  changed, 

The  poison  of  adders  is  in  him. 
15    "Wealth  he  gorged,  and  then  spewed  it  out ; 

From  his  belly  God  casteth  it  forth. 

The  adder's  poison  he  sucks. 

The  tongue  of  the  viper  doth  kill  him. 
Let  him  see  not  the  brooks. 

The  streams,  the  rivers  of  honey  and  cream. 

Restoring  the  gain,  unswallowed. 

As  the  wealth  of  his  barter  he  joys  not. 

For  he  crushed,  he  deserted  the  poor ; 

Seized  a  house,  but  he  buildeth  it  not. 
20    Since  he  knew  no  rest  in  his  greed, 

"With  his  dearest  he  shall  not  escape. 

There  is  naught  has  evaded  his  hunger. 

So  his  welfare  shall  not  remain  firm. 

"While  his  riches  are  full,  he  is  straightened  ; 

Every  sufferer's  hand  comes  ujDon  him. 

It  shall  happen,  to  fill  up  his  maw. 

He  will  send  His  hot  anger  against  him, 

And  rain  down  upon  him  His  food. 

He  flees  from  the  armor  of  iron, 

A  brazen  bow  doth  pierce  him. 
25    He  pulls,  it  goes  forth  from  his  back, 

And  the  glittering  steel  from  his  gall ; 
Terror  cometh  upon  him. 

All  gloom  is  reserved  for  his  treasures, 

A  fire  not  blown  eats  him  up, 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      59 

Destroys  what  is  left  in  his  tent. 
The  heavens  uncover  liis  sin, 
And  earth  rises  up  against  him. 
Disappear  shall  the  wealth  of  his  house, 
Washed  away  in  the  day  of  His  wrath. 
This  the  wicked  man's  portion  from  God, 
And  his  dower  appointed  by  El. 


A 


Job. 
CHAPTER  XXL 
ND  Job  answered  and  said : 


O  HEAR  with  attention  my  speech, 

And  let  this  be  your  consolation. 

Permit  me,  and  I  will  speak. 

And  when  I  have  spoken,  mock  on. 

As  for  me,  does  my  plaint  concern  man. 

Or  why  should  I  not  be  impatient  ? 

Turn  hither  to  me  and  wonder, 

And  lay  the  hand  on  the  mouth. 

At  the  mere  recollection  I  shudder. 

And  terror  doth  seize  on  my  flesh. 

Wherefore  do  wicked  men  live, 

Grow  old,  yea,  wax  mighty  in  power  ? 

Their  seed  is  established  with  them  in  their  sight, 

And  their  offspring  before  their  eyes. 

Their  homes  are  secure  from  fear, 


60  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

And  the  rod  of  Eldah's  not  on  them. 

10    His  bull  unfailingly  genders  ; 

His  cow  calves,  and  doth  not  miscarry. 
They  send  forth  their  young  as  a  flock, 
And  their  children  leap  wildly  for  joy ; 
They  shout  to  the  drum  and  the  cithern, 
And  rejoice  at  the  organ's  sound ; 
They  spend  their  days  in  good, 
And  go  down  in  a  wink  to  She  (51. 
Yet  they  say  unto  God,  Turn  from  us  I 
And,  We  wish  not  to  know  of  Thy  paths. 

15    What  is  Shaddai  that  Him  we  should  serve  ? 
What's  our  profit  in  praying  to  Him  ? 
Lo,  their  fortune  is  not  in  their  hand : 
Far  from  me  be  the  thought  of  the  wicked  ! 
How  oft  fails  the  lamp  of  the  wicked, 
And  Cometh  their  ruin  upon  them, 
The  lots  He  assigns  in  His  wrath  ? 
[How  often]  are  they  as  straw  in  the  wind. 
And  as  chaff  that  the  storm  sweeps  away  ? 
"  El(5ah  reserveth  His  pain  for  his  sons :" 
Requite  him  may  He  that  he  know  it ! 

20    Let  his  own  eyes  behold  his  destruction. 
Of  th'  Almighty's  wrath  let  him  drink ! 
For  what  recks  he  his  house  after  him. 
When  cut  off  is  his  number  of  months  ? 
Doth  any  teach  God  understanding, 
Who  judgeth  the  heavenly  ones  ? 
One  dies  in  the  fulness  of  vigor. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      61 

Quite  tranquil  and  free  from  care. 

His  sinews  are  full  of  fatness, 

And  liis  marrow  's  refreshed  in  his  bones. 
25    And  another  dies  bitter  of  soul, 

And  hath  not  tasted  of  good. 

Together  they  lie  in  the  dust, 

And  the  worms  do  cover  them  both. 

Behold,  I  perceive  your  thoughts. 

And  the  plans  with  which  ye  would  wrong  me. 

If  ye  say,  Where's  the  tyrants'  house  ? 

And  where  is  the  tent  where  the  wicked  dwell  ? 

Of  travellers  have  ye  not  asked  ? 

And  their  signs  ye  cannot  desjDise : 
30    That  the  wicked  is  spared  in  the  day  of  woe, 

Led  away  in  the  day  of  great  wrath. 

Who  declares  to  his  face  his  way  ? 

And  that  which  he  does  who  requites  him  ? 

And  he  to  the  graveyard  is  borne. 

And  keepeth  watch  on  a  mound. 

Sweet  to  him  are  the  clods  of  the  vale, 

And  after  him  goes  all  the  world, 

As  before  him  a  numberless  host. 

Then  how  would  ye  vainly  console  me. 

Since  your  answers — malice  remains  ? 


62  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 


THE    THIRD    CYCLE    OF    THE    POEM. 


A 


Eliphaz. 
CHAPTER  XXII. 
ND  Eliphaz  the  Temanite  answered  and 

said : 

CAN  a  man  be  of  profit  to  God  ? 
Nay,  a  wise  one  will  profit  himself. 
Doth  th'  Almighty  win  aught  when  thou'rt  just, 
Or  get  gain  when  thou  livest  uprightly  ? 
Because  of  thy  fear  doth  He  chide  thee, 
Doth  He  come  into  judgment  with  thee  ? 
5    Is  not  thy  wickedness  great, 

And  are  not  thy  sins  without  end  ? 
For  thou  pledgedst  thy  brother  for  naught. 
And  didst  strip  off  the  clothes  of  the  needy ; 
Thou  gavest  the  thirsty  no  water, 
And  didst  hold  back  thy  bread  from  the  hungry. 
But  the  mighty,  to  liim  was  the  land. 
And  the  eminent  one  dwelt  therein. 
Thou  hast  sent  away  widows  with  naught. 
And  the  arms  of  the  orphans  were  broken. 
10    And  so  spread  about  thee  are  nets, 
And  fear  on  a  sudden  confounds  thee. 
Or  dost  thou  not  see  the  darkness. 
And  a  water-flood  cov'ring  thee  up  ? 
Is  not  God  as  hiffh  as  the  heavens  ? 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      63 

See  the  head  of  the  stars, —  how  high  ! 

And  thou  sayest,  What  knoweth  God  ? 

Can  He  execute  right  tlu'ough  the  gloom  ? 

Clouds  are  His  veil,  that  He  see  not, 

And  He  walks  in  the  heavenly  vault. 
15    Wilt  thou  keep  the  pathway  of  old, 

Which  men  of  wickedness  trod ; 

Who  were  snatched  untimely  away, 

Their  foundation  poured  forth  in  a  stream  ; 

Who  said  unto  God,  Turn  from  us  ! 

And  what  could  th'  Ahnighty  do  for  them  ? 

Yet  he  filled  up  their  houses  with  good : 

"  Far  from  me  be  the  thought  of  the  wicked  !  " 

The  righteous  behold,  and  are  glad, 
And  the  innocent  laughs  them  to  scorn  : 
20    "  Of  a  truth  our  foe  is  cut  off, 

And  their  wealth  has  a  fire  devoured." 
O,  deal  friendly  with  Him,  and  have  peace  : 
By  tliis  shall  good  come  upon  thee. 
Take  now  from  His  mouth  instruction, 
And  lay  up  His  words  in  thy  heart. 
If  thou  turn  unto  Shaddai,  thou'lt  prosper ; 
If  thou  put  from  thy  tent  perverseness. 
And  put  in  the  dust  thine  ore. 
And  Opliir  mid  stones  of  the  brook  : 
25    Th'  Almighty  shall  then  be  tliine  ore, 
And  glittering  silver  for  thee. 
For  in  Shaddai  shalt  thou  then  delight. 
And  shalt  lift  up  thy  face  unto  God. 


64  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

When  thou  prayest  to  Him,  He  will  hear  thee; 
And  thou  shalt  fulfil  thy  vows. 
When  thou  plannest  a  thing,  it  succeeds ; 
And  over  thy  paths  shineth  light. 
When  they  sink,  thou  wilt  say,  Be  lift  up ! 
And  the  lowly  of  eyes  He  will  save  ; 
30    He  will  save  one  not  guiltless, 

And  save  by  thy  cleanness  of  hands. 


A 


Job. 
CHAPTER  XX III. 
ND  Job  answered  and  said : 


E'EN  to-day  my  complaint  is  defiant, 
Though  my  hand  lieth  hard  on  my  sigh. 

0  that  I  knew  where  to  find  Him, 
Could  come  even  unto  His  place ! 

1  would  order  before  Him  the  suit. 
And  my  mouth  with  defences  would  fill. 
I  would  know  the  words  of  His  answer, 
Would  perceive  what  He'd  say  unto  me. 
Will  He  strive  in  great  power  with  me  ? 
Nay,  but  He  will  rather  regard  me. 
Then  a  just  man  would  reason  with  Him, 
And  for  aye  from  my  Judge  I'd  escape. 
Lo,  eastward  I  go,  He's  not  there, 

And  westward,  I  do  not  observe  Him ; 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      QS 

To  the  north,  when  He  works,  I  discern  not. 

He  hides  in  the  south,  and  I  see  not. 
10    For  He  knoweth  the  way  with  me ; 

Shoukl  He  try  me,  as  gokl  I'd  come  forth. 

My  foot  has  cleaved  fast  to  His  step. 

His  way  I  have  kept  without  turning. 

The  command  of  His  lij^s,  and  swerved  not. 

More  than  my  own  resolution 

I  laid  up  the  words  of  His  mouth. 

Yet  He  is  the  same ;  and  who  stays  Him  ? 

If  His  soul  has  wished  aught,  then  He  does  it. 

For  He  will  perform  my  decree ; 

And  like  these  there  are  many  things  with  Him. 
15    Therefore  I  am  frightened  at  Him ; 

I  reflect,  and  before  Him  I  fear. 

So  God  hath  softened  my  heart, 

And  Shaddai  hath  made  me  afraid; 

For  I  am  not  hushed  'fore  the  darkness, 

Nor  before  myself  gloom-concealed. 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

\17HEREF0RE    are  not  times  by  th'  Al- 

'  ^       niighty  reserved. 
And  why  see  not  His  friends  His  days  ? 

Men  move  away  bounds. 
They  seize  on  a  flock,  and  feed  it ; 
They  drive  off  the  ass  of  the  orphans, 
They  pledge  the  ox  of  the  widow ; 


66  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

They  thrust  the  poor  from  the  road ; 
All  concealed  are  the  meek  of  the  land. 
5    Lo,  wild  asses  in  the  waste,  they  go  forth 
In  their  labor  of  seeking  for  prey. 
The  steppe  yields  him  bread  for  the  young, 
In  the  field  they  cut  each  his  fodder. 
And  the  wicked  man's  vineyard  they  glean. 
Naked  they  lodge,  without  garment, 
And  no  covering  have  in  the  cold. 
They  drip  with  the  rain  of  the  mountains, 
And  shelterless  cling  to  a  rock. 
Men  tear  from  the  breast  an  orphan, 
And  they  pledge  what  the  needy  has  on. 

10    Naked  they  go,  without  garment. 
And  famishing  take  up  the  sheaves. 
Between  their  walls  they  make  oil, 
They  tread  in  the  wine  fats,  and  thirst. 
From  the  city  the  dying  cry  out. 
And  the  soul  of  the  pierced  pleads  for  help, 
But  Eldah  regards  not  the  folly. 
These  belong  to  the  haters  of  light. 
They  have  not  regarded  its  ways. 
And  have  not  dwelt  in  its  paths. 
At  light  the  murderer  riseth ; 
He  killeth  the  wretched  and  poor. 
And  at  night  he  becomes  like  a  thief. 

15    The  adulterer's  eye  waits  for  dusk ; 
He  thinketh.  No  eye  shall  behold  me, 
And  he  putteth  a  mask  on  his  face. 


i 


i 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      67 

In  the  darkness  men  break  into  houses ; 

By  clay  they  shut  themselves  up. 

They  are  not  acquainted  with  light, 

For  morn  is  thick  gloom  to  them  all, 

Since  man  knoweth  the  terrors  of  blackness. 

He  is  swift  on  the  face  of  the  waters,  [say  you,] 

Accursed  is  his  portion  on  earth, 

He  shall  turn  not  the  way  of  the  vineyards. 

Drought,  also  heat,  the  snow  waters  consume ; 

Shedl  those  that  sin. 
20  The  womb  forgets  him. 

The  worm  feeds  on  him, 
Remembered  is  he  no  more ; 
And  broken  is  sin  like  a  tree, 
He  who  robbed  the  barren  that  bare  not, 
And  did  to  the  widow  no  good. 
Yet  the  mighty  by  might  He  preserveth ; 
He  stands  up,  not  believing  in  life. 
He  calms  him,  and  he  is  sustained, 
And  His  eyes  are  upon  their  ways. 
They  are  high  a  moment,  then  gone  ; 
They  sink,  they  perish  like  all. 
And  they  fade  as  the  top  of  the  stalk. 
If  not,  who  will  give  me  the  lie. 
And  bring  to  nothing  my  words. 


68  THL  JO^^lir  OF  JOB. 


A 


BiLDAD. 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

ND    Bilclacl   the    Sliuhite    answered    and 

said : 

DOMINION  and  fear  are  with  Him, 
Who  maketh  peace  in  His  heights. 
Is  there  of  His  troops  any  number, 
And  o'er  whom  doth  not  His  light  rise  ? 
How  can  man  be  just  before  God, 
How  the  woman-born  one  be  pure  ? 
Lo,  even  the  moon  shines  not  brightly, 
And  the  stars  are  not  clean  in  His  eyes, 
Much  less  is  frail  man,  a  crawler  ! 
And  the  son  of  man,  a  worm ! 


A 


Job. 
CHAPTER  XXVI. 
ND  Job  answered  and  said  : 


HOW  hast  thou  strengthened  weakness, 
Supported  the  powerless  arm  ? 
How  hast  thou  counseled  unwisdom, 
And  knowledge  in  fullness  made  known  ? 
To  whom  hast  thou  made  known  words, 
And  whose  breath  has  gone  out  from  thee  ? 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      69 

5  The  shades  suffer  pain 

Beneath  the  sea  and  its  dwellers. 

Shedl  is  naked  before  Him, 

And  no  covering  hath  the  abyss. 

He  spreads  out  the  north  o'er  the  waste, 

Suspendeth  the  earth  over  chaos. 

In  His  thick  clouds  He  shuts  up  the  waters, 

Yet  a  cloud  is  not  broken  beneath  them. 

He  encloseth  the  front  of  the  throne, 

He  spreadeth  upon  it  His  cloud. 
10    A  circle  He  drew  on  the  waters 

To  the  last  ray  of  light  near  the  darkness. 

The  pillars  of  heaven  do  quake 

And  shudder  at  His  rebuke. 

In  His  might  He  exciteth  the  sea ; 

By  His  knowledge  He  shattereth  Rahab. 

By  His  breath  are  the  heavens  made  bright; 

His  hand  the  flying  dragon  hath  pierced. 

Lo,  these  are  the  ends  of  His  ways ; 

But  what  a  mere  murmur  we  hear, 

And  the  roar  of  His  great  strength  who  knows  ? 


A 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
ND  Job  continued  his  sententious  discourse 
and  said : 


AS  God  lives,  who  deprives  me  of  right. 
And  th'  Almighty,  who  vexes  my  soul — 


70  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

For  all  of  my  life  is  still  in  me, 

And  Eldah's  breath  in  my  nostril — 

My  lips  do  not  speak  perverseness, 

And  my  tongue  doth  not  utter  deceit. 
5    Far  be  it  from  me  to  justify  you  ! 

Till  I  die  I  will  not  let  my  innocence  go  I 

I  cleave  to  my  right,  nor  loose  it ; 

My  heart  chides  no  one  of  my  days. 

My  foe  shall  become  as  the  wicked, 

And  my  enemy  as  the  perverse. 

For  what  hope  has  the  bad,  when  cuts  off, 

When  draws  out  Eldah  his  soul  ? 

His  cry  for  help  doth  God  hear. 

When  Cometh  upon  him  distress  ? 
10    Will  he  in  th'  Almighty  delight, 

Will  he  call  upon  God  at  all  times  ? 

I  will  teach  you  as  touching  God's  hand, 

I'll  not  hide  what  is  with  th'  Almighty. 

Behold,  ye  have  all  of  you  seen, 

And  why  are  ye  utterly  vain  ? 

This  is  the  wicked  man's  lot  before  God, 

And  the  portion  that  tyrants  get  from  the  Al- 
mighty. 

If  his  sons  increase,  they're  the  sword's ; 

And  his  seed  are  not  sated  with  bread. 
15    His  remnant  are  buried  by  death. 

And  as  for  his  widows,  they  weep  not. 

Though  he  heapeth  up  silver  as  dust, 

And  raiment  prepareth  as  clay  ; 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      71 

He  prepares,  but  the  righteous  doth  wear  it, 
And  his  silver  the  innocent  shares. 
He  has  built  as  a  moth  his  house, 
As  a  booth  that  a  watclmian  hath  made, 
He  Ueth  down  rich,  but  not  twice ; 
He  has  opened  his  eyes,  and  is  gone. 
20    Terrors  o'ertake  him  like  waters, 
A  storm  bears  him  off  in  the  night. 
East  wind  lifts  him  up,  and  he  goes. 
And  it  sweeps  him  away  from  his  place. 
And  He  hurls  upon  him  unsparing ; 
From  His  hand  he  would  utterly  flee. 
Men  clap  their  hands  at  him, 
And  hiss  him  forth  from  his  place. 


CHAPTER  XXVIIL 

FOR  there  is  a  vein  for  the  silver, 
And  a  place  for  the  gold,  which  they  fine. 
From  the  dust  is  iron  obtained. 
And  a  stone  is  fused  into  brass. 

Man  has  bounded  the  darkness. 
And  to  all  completeness  he  searcheth 
The  stone  of  gloom  and  thick  darkness. 
Man  hath  broken  a  shaft  away  from  the  dweller. 
Those  who  by  the  foot  were  forgotten ; 
They  hung  far  from  mortals,  they  swung. 
The  earth,  out  of  it  cometh  bread ; 
But  its  depth  is  o'erturned  as  with  fire ; 


72  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

The  sapj^hire's  place  is  its  stones, 
And  in  it  are  nuggets  of  gold. 
A  path  which  the  hawk  hath  not  known, 
And  the  vulture's  eye  hath  not  spied ; 
The  sons  of  might  have  not  trod  it, 
There  has  passed  not  upon  it  a  lion. 
On  the  flint  man  has  put  forth  his  hand. 
He  has  wholly  subverted  the  mountains. 

10     Canals  he  hath  cut  in  the  rocks, 

And  his  eye  has  seen  everything  precious. 
He  has  bound  fast  the  rills  from  trickling, 
And  so  bringeth  to  light  what  is  hid. 
But  wisdom,  from  wdience  is  it  found. 
And  where  now  is  insight's  abode  ? 
Its  value  frail  man  has  not  known, 
'Tis  not  found  in  the  land  of  the  living. 
The  deep  said.  In  me  it  is  not, 
And  the  sea  said,  It  is  not  with  me. 

15    Fine  gold  is  not  given  in  its  stead. 
Nor  is  silver  paid  out  as  its  price. 
It  is  weighed  not  for  Oj)hir's  pure  gold, 
For  the  onyx  of  price  and  the  sapphire. 
Gold  and  glass  are  not  equal  to  it. 
Nor  are  vessels  of  gold  its  exchange. 
Unthought  of  are  corals  and  crystal : 
To  have  wisdom  is  better  than  pearls. 
Not  like  it  the  topaz  of  Cush, 
It  is  not  weighed  out  for  fine  gold. 

20    Yea,  wisdom,  from  whence  doth  it  come, 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.       73 

And  where  now  is  insight's  abode  ? 
It  is  veiled  from  the  eyes  of  all  living, 
And  hid  from  the  fowl  of  the  sky. 
Destruction  and  death  have  said, 
With  our  ears  we  have  heard  of  its  fame. 
God  has  observed  its  way, 
And  He  hath  known  its  abode. 
For  He,  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  He  beholds, 
Beneath  the  whole  heaven  He  sees, 
25    To  make  a  weight  for  the  wind. 

While  the  water  He  fixes  by  measure. 
When  He  made  for  the  rain  a  decree. 
And  a  path  for  the  bolts  of  the  thunder ; 
Then  He  saw  it,  and  pubHshed  it  forth; 
Set  it  up,  and  fathomed  it  also. 

And  he  said  unto  man : 
Lo,  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom, 
And  turning  from  evil  is  insight. 


74  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 


THE    SOLILOQUY    OF    JOB. 
CHAPTER  XXIX. 

AND  Job  continued  his  sententious  discourse 
and  said : 
HAD  I  like  the  months  of  the  past, 
Like  the  days  when  Eldah  watched  o'er  me ! 
When  His  lamp  still  shone  on  my  head, 
By  His  light  I  walked  in  the  darkness :  — 
As  I  was  in  the  days  of  my  prime, 
When  God's  counsel  was  over  my  tent, 
5    While  yet  th'  Almighty  was  with  me. 
Around  me  my  children  ; 
When  my  steps  were  bathing  in  cream, 
And  the  rock  pouring  rivers  of  oil  at  my  side. 
When  I  went  tow'rd  the  gate  to  the  city, 
In  the  market  erected  my  seat ; 
The  young  men  beheld  me,  and  hid, 
And  the  old  men  arose,  they  stood. 
The  princes  were  chary  of  words. 
And  the  palm  they  laid  on  their  mouth. 
10    The  voice  of  noble  ones  ceased. 

And  their  tongue  clave  fast  to  their  throat. 
Whene'er  the  ear  heard,  then  it  blessed  me ; 
And  the  eye,  when  it  saw,  bare  me  witness. 
For  I  rescued  the  poor,  crying  out. 
The  orphan,  and  him  who  was  helpless. 
The  wretched  one's  blessing  came  on  me, 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.       75 

And  I  gladdened  the  heart  of  the  widow. 
I  put  on  justness  ;  it  clothed  me  : 
My  right  was  as  mantle  and  turban. 

15    Eyes  I  was  to  the  blind, 
And  feet  to  the  lame  was  I. 
A  father  was  I  to  the  poor, 
And  a  suit  which  I  knew  not,  that  searched  I. 
I  shattered  the  jaws  of  the  sinner. 
And  plucked  out  the  prey  from  his  teeth. 
And  I  said,  In  my  nest  I  shall  die. 
And  shall  multiply  days  like  the  jihoenix. 
To  the  waters  my  root  will  lie  bare. 
And  dew  pass  the  night  on  my  branch ; 

20    My  glory  still  fresh  will  be  with  me. 

And  my  bow  will  grow  young  in  my  hand. 

Men  listened  to  me,  and  waited. 

And  they  heard  my  counsel  in  silence. 

They  replied  not  after  my  word, 

And  on  them  dropped  gently  my  speech ; 

And  they  waited  for  me  as  for  rain, 

And  their  mouth  for  the  harvest-rain  opened. 

I  gave  them  a  smile  when  despondent, 

And  they  made  not  my  cheerful  face  sad. 

25    I  sought  out  their  way,  and  presided, 
And  I  throned  as  a  king  in  the  troops. 
As  one  who  comforteth  mourners. 


76  THE  PCZTRY  Oy  JOB. 


B^ 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
UT  now  they  do  laugh  me  to  scorn 

Who  are  younger  in  clays  than  myself, 
Whose  fathers  I  should  have  abhorred 
To  set  with  the  dogs  of  my  flock. 
And  the  strength  of  their  hands,  what  to  me, 
Since  for  them  robustness  has  perished  ? 
By  want  and  hunger  made  lean, 
Who  fly  to  the  waste. 
To  the  darkness  of  desert  and  waste ; 
Who  pluck  at  the  bushes  salt-purslane. 
And  the  broom-plant's  root  is  their  bread. 
5  They  are  driven  from  men ; 

They  are  shouted  at  as  a  thief. 
They  must  dwell  in  the  gorges  most  dreadful. 
In  holes  of  the  earth  and  of  rocks. 
In  the  midst  of  bushes  they  groan. 
Beneath  the  sharp  thorn  they  are  huddled. 
Fools'  sons,  yea,  sons  without  name, 
They  are  scourged  away  out  of  the  land. 
And  now  their  ditty  am  I, 
And  I  am  a  by-word  for  them  ! 
10    They  scorn  me,  far  from  me  they  stand. 
And  spare  not  my  face  the  spittle. 
For  my  cord  He  hath  loosed  and  debased  me ; 
So  they  cast  off  before  me  the  bridle. 
On  my  right  hand  the  brood  riseth  up  ; 

They  have  cast  at  my  feet. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANF^LATION.      77 

And  have  thrown  up  against  me  their  ruinous 
ways. 

They  demolished  my  path, 
They  help  on  my  fall, 
Themselves  heing  helpless. 
As  through  a  wide  fissure  they  come, 
They  roll  themselves  on  with  a  crash. 
15    Against  me  terrors  are  turned  ; 
My  honor  they  chase  as  the  wind, 
And  my  help  has  gone  by  like  a  cloud. 
And  now  within  me  my  soul  is  poured  out, 

Sad  days  seize  on  me. 
Night  pierces  my  bones,  that  they  fall  from  me, 
And  my  sinews  do  not  obtain  rest. 
By  gi-eat  might  is  my  garment  disfigured, 
Like  the  neck  of  my  tunic  it  clasps  me. 

Jn  the  mire  He  hast  cast  me, 
And  like  dust  and  ashes  am  I. 
20    I  cry  imto  Thee  unanswered  ; 

I  stand,  and  Thou  lookest  upon  me. 
Thou'rt  changed  toward  me  to  a  tyrant ; 
With  strong  hand  Thou  dost  persecute  me. 
Thou  dost  mount  me  on  wind,  mak'st  me  ride, 
And  dost  let  me  dissolve  into  storm. 
For  I  know  Thou  wilt  bring  me  to  death, 
And  the  house  for  all  living  appointed. 
Yet,  when  falling,  man  throws  out  the  hand  ? 
In  his  ruin,  because  of  it,  cries  out  ? 
25    Or  have  I  not  wept  for  th'  oppressed  ; 


78  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Has  not  my  soul  grieved  for  the  jDoor  ? 
When  I  waited  for  good,  evil  came  ; 
When  I  looked  for  the  light,  came  the  gloom. 
My  bowels  do  boil  without  ceasing ; 
Days  of  affliction  befall  me. 
A  mourner  I  roam  without  sun ; 
I  rise  in  th'  assembly,  I  cry  out. 
A  brother  am  I  unto  jackals, 
And  a  friend  to  the  daughters  of  wailing. 
30    My  skin  groweth  black,  and  falls  off, 
And  my  bones  do  burn  from  the  heat. 
So  my  cithern  is  turned  into  weeping, 
And  my  pipe  to  the  voice  of  mourners. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
A     LEAGUE  I  have  formed  for  my  eyes, 
'**■     And  how  should  I  look  on  a  maid  ? 
And  what  is  God's  portion  from  heaven, 
Th'  Almighty's  lot  from  the  heights  ? 

Is  not  woe  for  the  wicked. 
And  ruin  for  doers  of  evil  ? 
My  ways  doth  not  He  behold. 
And  doth  He  not  count  all  my  steps  ? 
If  I  with  falsehood  have  walked. 
And  my  foot  hasted  after  deceit — 
Let  Him  weigh  me  in  righteous  scales, 
That  Eldah  my  virtue  may  know  ! 
If  my  step  turned  aside  from  the  way, 


.1  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      79 

And  my  heart  followed  after  my  eyes, 
And  a  blemish  did  cleave  in  my  palm ; 
Let  me  sow,  and  another  one  eat. 
And  my  shoots,  let  them  be  rooted  up. 
If  my  heart  was  befooled  for  a  woman, 
And  I  lurked  at  the  door  of  my  friend ; 

10    Then  let  my  wife  grind  for  another, 
And  above  her  let  others  bow  down. 

For  that  is  a  shame. 
And  that  is  a  crime  for  the  judges. 
For,  a  fire,  it  eats  to  the  pit. 
And  in  all  of  my  wealth  't  would  work  ruin. 
If  I  scorned  my  servant's  right 
And  my  maid's  in  their  trouble  with  me  ; 
Then  what  should  I  do  in  case  God  should  arise, 
And  should  He  examine,  how  answer  I  Him  ? 

15    Did  not  He  who  made  me  in  the  womb  make  him. 
And  us  did  not  One  in  the  bosom  create  ? 
If  the  msh  of  the  poor  I  refused. 
And  the  eyes  of  the  widow  let  fail, 
And  ate  up  my  morsel  alone, 
While  an  orphan  partook  not  of  it — 
From  my  youth  he  revered  me  as  father, 
From  my  mother's  womb  I  led  her ; — 
If  I  saw  a  perishing  one,  without  dress, 
And  no  covering  for  the  poor — 

20    In  truth,  his  loins  have  blessed  me. 

From  the  fleece  of  my  lambs  he  was  warmed  ; — 
If  I  shook  o'er  an  orphan  my  hand. 


80  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

When  I  saw  in  the  gate  my  support ; 
Let  my  shoulder-blade  drop  from  its  neck, 
And  my  arm  be  wrenched  from  its  bone  ; 
For  a  terror  to  me  is  God's  bane, 
And  before  His  highness  I'm  weak. 
If  gold  I  have  made  my  support, 
And  to  fine  gold  have  said,  O  my  trust ! 

25    If  I  joyed  that  my  wealth  was  great. 
And  my  hand  had  acquired  much  goods ; 
If  I  saw  the  light  when  it  shone. 
And  the  moon  in  majesty  moving; 
If  my  heart  became  foolish  in  secret, 
And  I  threw  [unto  them]  a  kiss : 
This  too  were  a  crime  for  the  judges. 
For  to  God  above  I  had  lied. 
If  I  joyed  in  the  hurt  of  my  hater, 
Sprang  up  when  calamity  found  him — 

30    But  I  gave  not  my  mouth  to  sin 
By  asking  his  soul  with  a  curse ; — 
If  the  men  of  my  tent  have  not  said, 
Who  can  show  one  not  filled  from  his  food  ? 
A  stranger  lodged  not  in  the  street, 
I  opened  my  doors  to  the  way ; 
If  I  hid  as  a  man  my  transgression, 
That  my  guilt  I  concealed  in  my  breast, 
Because  I  feared  the  great  throng. 
And  the  scorn  of  the  clans  made  me  shake, 
That  I  hushed,  went  not  out  at  the  door — 

35    O  had  I  some  one  to  hear  me  ! 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      81 

Lo,  my  mark !  Answer  me  the  Almighty  ! 

And  [had  I]  the  book  my  opponent  has  writ ! 

Of  a  truth,  on  my  back  I  would  bear  it, 

I  would  bind  it  on  me,  a  dear  crown. 

I  would  tell  him  the  sum  of  my  stejDS, 

As  a  prince  I  would  come  near  to  him. 

If  against  me  my  acre  cried  out. 

And  together  its  furrows  did  weep ; 

If  I  ate  up  its  strength  without  pay, 

And  blew  out  the  life  of  its  lord ; 

Then  for  wheat  let  the  thorns  spring  forth. 

And  instead  of  the  barley  rank  weeds. 

THE    WORDS    OF    JOB    ARE    ENDED. 


82  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

ELIHU. 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Introduction  of  Elihu. 

AND  so  these  three  men  stopped  answering 
Job,  because  he  was  righteous  in  his  own 
eyes.  And  the  anger  of  Ehhu  was  kmdled, 
the  son  of  Barachel  the  Buzite,  of  the  family 
of  Ram.  Against  Job  was  his  anger  kindled, 
because  he  had  justified  himself  rather  than 
God;  and  against  his  three  friends  was  his 
anger  kindled,  because  they  had  not  found  an 
answer  and  condemned  Job.  And  Elilm  had 
waited  for  Job  with  words,  because  they  were 
5]  older  than  he  in  days.  And  when  Elihu 
saw  that  there  was  no  answer  in  the  mouth  of 
the  three  men,  then  his  anger  was  kindled. 

And  Elihu  the  son  of  Barachel  the  Buzite 
answered  and  said : 

LITTLE  am  I  in  days, 

And  ye  are  old ; 
Hence  fearful  was  I  and  afraid 
To  show  my  opinion  to  you. 
I  said  to  myself,  days  should  speak, 
And  abundance  of  years  make  known  wisdom. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      83 

Yet  it  is  the  spirit  in  man, 

And  til'  Almighty's  breath  that  instructs  them. 

Not  the  great  in  days  are  wise, 

Nor  are  elders  acquainted  with  judgment. 
10    So  I  say,  O  listen  to  me ; 

I  will  make  known  my  thought,  even  I. 

Behold,  for  your  words  I  waited. 

For  your  sensible  speech  I  gave  ear, 

Until  ye  should  search  out  words ; 

And  I  gave  careful  heed  unto  you : 

But,  lo,  none  confuteth  Job, 

Not  one  of  you  answers  liis  words. 

Say  not  ye.  We  have  come  upon  wisdom ! 

God  can  put  him  to  flight,  not  man ! 

Since  he  ordered  against  me  no  words, 

I  shall  answer  him  not  with  your  terms. 
15    They  are  frightened,  they  answer  no  more. 

Departed  from  them  are  words. 

And  am  I  to  wait  when  they  speak  not. 

When  they  stop,  when  they  answer  no  more  ? 

I  will  answer  my  part,  even  I ; 

Even  I  will  make  known  my  opinion, 

Because  I  am  full  of  words ; 

The  spirit  within  me  incites  me. 

Behold,  my  breast  is  like  wine  that 's  not  vented. 

It  is  ready  to  burst  like  new  flasks. 
20    I  will  speak  that  myself  I  may  ease, 

I  will  ojDen  my  lips  and  reply. 

Indeed,  I'll  be  partial  to  no  man, 


84  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Nor  to  man  speak  flattering  words. 

For  I  do  not  know  how  to  flatter ; 

In  a  trice  would  my  Maker  remove  me. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

O  UT  prithee,  O  Job,  my  discourses  hear, 

*^     And  give  ear  unto  all  of  my  words. 

Lo,  now  I  have  opened  my  mouth ; 

My  tongue  in  my  throat  has  spoken. 

My  words  are  the  truth  of  my  heart, 

And  the  ken  of  my  lips,  distinctly  they  speak. 

The  Spirit  of  God  hath  made  me, 

And  th'  Almighty's  breath  gives  me  life. 
5    If  thou  hast  the  power,  refute  me : 

Prepare,  take  thy  stand  before  me. 

Lo,  I  stand  unto  God  as  thou  dost ; 

From  the  clay  was  I  also  cut  off. 

Lo,  my  fear  shall  not  make  thee  afraid. 

Nor  my  stroke  be  heavy  upon  thee. 

But  thou  hast  said  in  my  ears, 

And  the  sound  of  the  words  I  perceived : 

Clean  am  I  without  sin,  I  am  guiltless. 

And  there  is  no  iniquity  in  me. 
10    Lo,  He  findeth  out  charges  against  me. 

He  esteems  me  a  foe  to  Himself. 

He  putteth  my  feet  in  the  stocks, 

He  watcheth  aU  of  my  paths. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      85 

Lo,  in  this  thou'rt  not  just,  I  reply  unto  thee ; 

For  El(5ah  is  more  than  frail  man. 

Why  hast  thou  contended  with  Him, 

That  He  answers  not  all  of  man's  [his]  words  ? 

But  no,  God  doth  speak  at  one  time. 

And  twice  :  man  observeth  it  not. 
15    In  a  dream,  a  vision  of  night, 

When  falleth  deep  sleejD  upon  men, 

In  skmiberings  deej)  on  the  couch ; 

Then  doth  He  uncover  men's  ear, 

And  puts  on  their  warning  a  seal. 

To  turn  man  away  from  the  deed. 

And  pride  to  conceal  from  a  man  ; 

To  hold  back  his  soul  from  the  pit. 

And  liis  life  from  a  plunge  on  a  spear. 

And  by  pains  on  his  couch  he  is  chastened, 

While  the  strife  of  his  bones  is  unceasing. 
20    And  his  life  makes  bread  foul  to  him ; 

And  his  soul,  his  favorite  food. 

His  flesh  disappeareth  from  sight, 

And  liis  wasted  limbs  are  scarce  seen ; 

And  his  soul  draweth  near  to  the  pit. 

And  his  life  unto  those  who  destroy. 

If  there  be  an  angel  for  him. 

Intercessor,  one  out  of  a  thousand, 

To  declare  his  duty  to  man ; 

Then  pities  He  him,  and  doth  say, 

Save  him  from  descent  to  the  pit, 
I  have  found  a  ransom. 


86  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

25    His  flesh  is  made  tender  with  youth ; 
He  returns  to  his  boyhood's  days. 
He  prays  unto  God,  He  aecejDts  him, 
And  he  looks  on  His  face  with  delight : 
So  he  gives  man  his  righteousness  back. 
He  singeth  to  people  and  saith, 
I  had  sinned  and  perverted  the  upright, 
But  it  was  not  requited  to  me. 
He  rescued  me  from  descent  to  the  pit, 
And  my  life  doth  feast  upon  light. 
Behold,  all  of  this  will  God  do, 
Twice,  thrice  with  a  man, 

30    To  bring  back  his  soul  from  the  pit, 
Make  it  shine  with  the  light  of  life. 
Attend,  O  Job,  give  me  heed ; 
Keep  silence  and  I  will  speak. 
But  if  there  are  words,  answer  me ; 
Speak  thou,  for  I  wish  thine  acquittal. 
If  none,  do  thou  listen  to  me : 
Hush,  and  I  will  impart  to  thee  wisdom. 


A 


CHAP  TEE  XXXIV. 
ND  Eliliu  answered  and  said  : 


O  HEARKEN,  ye  wise,  to  my  words, 
And  give  ear  unto  me,  ye  that  know ; 
For  the  ear  examineth  words 
As  the  palate  tasteth  in  eating. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      87 

The  right  let  us  prove  for  ourselves, 

Among  us  discern  what  is  good. 
5    For  Job  has  said,  I  am  guiltless, 

And  God  has  removed  my  right ; 

In  spite  of  my  right  I  must  lie ; 

Full  of  pain  is  my  wound  without  sin. 
Who  's  a  hero  like  Job, 

Who  drinketh  derision  as  waters  ? 

And  he  goes  with  sinners  for  partners, 

And  with  wicked  men  he  doth  walk. 

For  he  saith,  It  profits  not  man 

When  he  stands  on  good  terms  with  God. 
10    Therefore,  men  of  mind,  hearken  to  me: 

Far  be  it  that  God  should  be  wicked, 
Th '  Almighty  sinful ! 

For  man's  doing  he  pays  back  to  him, 

And  after  man's  path  lets  him  find. 

Yea,  truly,  God  doeth  not  mischief. 

And  th'  Almighty  perverteth  not  right. 

Who  entrusted  to  him  the  earth, 

And  who  hath  fixed  all  the  world  ? 

Should  He  set  His  heart  on  Himself, 

Should  gather  to  Him  His  spirit  and  breath ; 
15    All  flesh  would  expire  together. 

And  man  would  go  back  to  the  dust. 

And  understand,  hear  thou  this, 

Give  ear  to  the  voice  of  my  words. 

E  'en  a  hater  of  right,  can  he  rule  ? 

Or  wilt  thou  condemn  the  most  Riofhteous  ? 


88  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Who  saitli  to  a  king,  Worthless  one ! 
O  wicked  one !  unto  princes  ; 
Who  accepts  not  the  person  of  princes, 
Nor  pref  erreth  the  rich  to  the  poor, 
For  His  handiwork  are  they  all. 

20    In  a  moment  they  die,  and  at  midnight 
A  peoi^le  are  stirred,  and  they  vanish  ; 
And  the  strong  are  dejDosed,  not  with  hands. 
For  His  eyes  are  upon  a  man's  ways, 
And  all  of  his  steps  He  doth  see : 
No  darkness  is  there,  and  no  blackness, 
Where  doers  of  evil  can  hide. 
For  He  doth  not  regard  a  man  still. 
That  he  come  unto  God  in  the  judgment. 
He  breaketh  the  mighty  unsearched. 
And  others  He  sets  in  their  stead. 

25    So  He  recognizeth  their  doings. 

And  subverts  at  night,  and  they  're  crushed. 
He  punishes  them  as  the  wicked. 
In  the  place  of  beholders, 
They  who  turned  from  Him  to  this  end, 
And  did  not  regard  all  His  ways. 
To  bring  him  the  plaint  of  the  poor, 
That  He  hear  the  cry  of  the  lowly. 
When  He  calms,  who  then  can  condemn  ? 
When  He  covers  His  face,  who  behold  Him  ? 
As  well  o'er  a  race  as  a  man ; 

30    That  impious  men  may  not  rule. 
Nor  snares  of  the  people. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      89 

For  has  anyone  said  unto  God, 
I  atone  without  doing  wrong  ; 
Beside  what  I  can  see,  do  Thou  teach  me ; 
Have  1  sinned,  I  will  do  it  no  more  ? 
To  thy  mind  will  He  pay  back  thy  mocking, 
So  that  thou  must  choose,  and  not  I  ? 
Now  what  thou  dost  know,  sjoeak  out. 
Men  of  mind  will  say  unto  me. 
And  the  wise  man  who  listens  to  me, 
35    Job  talketh  without  understanding. 
And  his  words  are  not  with  insight. 
Would  that  Job  might  be  tried  to  the  utmost, 
For  his  answers  like  those  of  the  wicked ! 
For  he  adds  to  his  sin  transgression ; 

Among  us  he  mocks. 
And  makes  big  his  words  unto  God. 


A 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
ND  Eliliu  answered  and  said : 


DOST  thou  hold  this  for  just  that  thou  saidst. 
My  righteousness  more  is  than  God's? 
That  thou  sayest,  What  profits  it  thee  ? 
What  avails  it  more  than  my  sin  ? 
I  will  make  thee  an  answer  with  words. 
And  thy  companions  with  thee. 


90  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

5    Behold  the  heavens,  and  look, 

And  see  the  light  clouds,  they  are  higher  than 

thou. 
Dost  thou  sin,  how  affectest  thou  Him  ? 
Grow  thy  faults,  what  dost  thou  unto  Him  ? 
If  righteous,  what  givest  thou  Him, 
Or  what  doth  He  take  from  thy  hand  ? 
For  a  man  like  thyself  is  thy  sin, 
And  thy  right  for  the  son  of  a  man. 
For  the  many  wrongs  men  cry  out, 
Call  for  help  from  the  arm  of  the  strong ; 

10    But  one  has  not  said,  where's  Eldah,  my  Maker, 
Who  giveth  glad  songs  in  the  night ; 
Who  instructs  us  more  than  earth's  beasts, 
Makes  us  wiser  than  fowl  of  the  sky  ? 
Then  I  hey  cry,  but  He  answereth  not, 
Because  of  the  pride  of  the  wicked. 
Only  vanity  God  doth  not  hear. 
And  th'  Almighty  considers  it  not : 
Much  less  when  thou  sayest,  thou  seest  Him  not, 
Before  Him  is  the  cause,  and  thou  waitest  for  it ! 

15    And  now  since  his  anger  has  not  chastised. 
So  "  He  does  not  mark  sin  very  well !  " 
But  Job  ojDcns  his  mouth  for  naught ; 
And  multiplies  words  without  knowledge. 


A 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      91 

CHAPTER  XXXVl. 
ND  Eliliu  answered  and  said : 


WAIT  a  little  for  me,  and  I'll  teach  thee  ; 

For  still  there  are  words  for  Eldah. 

I  will  bring  my  knowledge  from  far, 

And  righteousness  give  to  my  Maker. 

For  surely  my  words  are  no  lie  ; 

One  perfect  in  knowledge  is  with  thee. 

5      Lo,  mighty  is  God,  but  not  scornful, 
Mighty  in  power  of  mind. 
He  preserves  not  the  life  of  the  wicked, 
But  the  right  of  the  poor  he  performs. 
He  withdraws  not  His  eyes  from  the  righteous. 
And  even  with  kings  on  the  throne 
He  sets  them  for  aye,  and  they're  high. 
And  when  they  are  bound  with  chains, 
Held  fast  in  the  bonds  of  affliction, 
And  He  shows  unto  them  their  work, 
And  their  sins,  that  great  they  are  grown, 

10    And  He  opens  their  ear  to  correction. 
And  bids  them  from  evil  return : 
If  they  hear  and  render  obedience. 
They  pass  their  days  in  good. 

And  their  years  in  delight. 
But  if  they  hear  not,  then  they  run  on  a  spear, 
And  breathe  out  their  life  without  knowledge. 


^2  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

And  the  godless  of  heart  cherish  wrath ; 

They  cry  not  for  help  when  He  binds  them. 

So  their  soul  must  die  in  youth, 

And  their  life  be  as  that  of  the  lustful. 
15    The  patient  He  saves  by  his  patience, 

And  opens  their  ear  by  oppression. 

And  enticed  thee  from  trouble's  mouth 

Has  a  broad,  unlimited  place. 

And  thy  table's  supply  full  of  fat. 

And  thou'rt  full  of  a  wicked  man's  sentence ; 

Sentence  and  right  cling  fast. 

For  beware  lest  anger  mislead  thee  by  fulness, 

And  let  not  great  ransom  beguile  thee. 

Will  He  order  thy  cry  without  need, 

And  all  the  exertions  of  might  ? 
20  Long  not  for  the  night, 

That  nations  may  rise  in  their  place. 

Take  heed,  turn  not  unto  sin. 

For  this  thou  preferrest  to  pain. 

Lo,  God  doth  exalt  by  His  might ; 

Who  giveth  instruction  like  Him  ? 

Who  prescribed  unto  Him  His  way, 

And  who  said,  Thou  doest  perverseness  ? 

Take  heed  that  His  work  thou  exalt, 

Which  men  have  praised  in  song. 
-25    All  men  gaze  fondly  upon  it. 

The  mortal  beholds  it  from  far. 

Lo,  God  is  high  o'er  our  knowledge. 

The  sum  of  His  years,  there's  no  searching. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      93 

For  He  draws  clown  the  drops  of  water, 
They  trickle  as  rain  for  His  mist. 
With  them  the  high  clouds  overflow, 
They  distill  upon  many  a  man. 
Yea,  knows  man  the  unfoldings  of  clouds, 
The  great  crash  of  His  tent  ? 
30    Lo,  He  spreadeth  upon  Him  His  light, 
And  He  covers  the  roots  of  the  sea. 
For  through  them  He  judgeth  the  nations, 
He  giveth  abundance  of  food. 
He  covers  his  palms  o'er  with  light, 
And  commands  it  against  the  foe. 
His  thunder  maketli  Him  known, 
E'en  the  herd  declares  His  advance. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

AT  this,  too,  my  heart  is  afraid. 
And  it  springs  from  its  place. 
O  listen  well  to  the  crash  of  His  voice. 
And  the  rumble  that  goes  from  His  mouth. 
Beneath  the  whole  heaven  He  sends  it. 
And  His  light  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
Behind  it  roareth  a  voice. 
Would  He  crash  with  voice  majestic ; 
And  He  hinders  them  not  should  His  voice  be 
heard. 


94  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

5    God  crasheth  amazingly  with  his  voice, 

He  doeth  great  things  past  our  knowledge. 

For  He  saith  to  the  snow,  Fall  earthward ! 
And  the  pouring  rain. 

The  pouring  rains  of  His  might. 

He  seals  up  the  hand  of  each  man. 

That  all  men  of  His  work  may  learn  knowledge. 

And  the  beast  enters  into  the  lair. 

In  its  dwelling-place  abides. 

The  hurricane  comes  from  the  chamber. 

And  from  the  scatterers  cold. 
10    By  the  breath  of  God  there  is  ice, 

And  the  breadth  of  the  waters  is  straightened. 

Yea,  richly  He  loadeth  His  cloud, 

Disperseth  the  cloud  of  His  light ; 

And  it  turneth  itself  about  by  His  steering. 

To  do  whate'er  He  commands  it 

On  the  face  of  th'  inhabited  earth. 

If  as  a  rod,  when  His  earth  needs  that, 

Or  as  mercy.  He  cause  it  to  come. 

Give  ear  unto  this,  O  Job ; 

Stand  up,  and  carefully  mark 

The  wonderful  things  of  God. 
15    Dost  thou  know  when  God  gives  them  a  message. 

And  the  light  of  His  cloud  makes  to  shine  ? 

Dost  thou  know  of  the  poisings  of  clouds. 

Great  things  of  One  perfect  in  knowledge  ? 

O  thou  whose  garments  are  warm 

When  the  earth  with  the  south  wind  is  sultry, 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      95 

Dost  thou  stretch  out  with  Hun  the  clear  sky, 
As  firm  as  a  molten  mirror  ? 
Make  us  know  what  to  say  unto  Him ; 
We  can  order  no  words  for  the  darkness. 
20    Shall  one  tell  Him  that  I  would  speak  ? 
Has  one  said  he  woidd  be  swallowed  up  ? 
And  now  men  behold  not  the  light ; 
It  is  bright  in  the  lofty  clouds, 
And  a  wind  passing  by  sweeps  them  off. 
Out  of  the  north  cometh  gold, 
O'er  Eldah  is  terrible  splendor. 
The  Almighty,  we  find  Him  not,  lofty  in  strength ; 
But  He  humbles  not  judgment,  nor  fulness  of 

right. 
For  this  do  men  revere  Him, 
He  heeds  none  wise  in  heart. 


96  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

JEHOVAH'S  ADDRESS  AND  JOB'S  ANSWERS. 
CHAPTER  XX XV HI. 


A 


ND    Jeliovali    answered   Job   out  of    the 
whirlwind  and  said : 


WHO  now  is  darkening  counsel 

By  words  that  are  void  of  knowledge  ? 

Up  !     Gird  thy  loins  like  a  man ; 

I  will  ask  thee,  and  make  me  to  know. 

Where  wast  thou  when  I  founded  the  earth  ? 

Declare,  if  thou  hast  understanding. 
5      Who  has  fixed  its  extent,  that  thou  knowest, 

Or  who  has  stretched  o'er  it  a  line  ? 

On  what  were  its  pedestals  sunk, 

Or  the  stone  of  its  corner  who  laid, 

When  the  stars  of  the  dawn  sang  together. 

And  shouted  all  children  of  God  ? 

And  who  shut  up  the  sea  with  doors. 

When  it  burst  through,  came   forth  from  the 
womb ; 

When  I  made  a  cloud  its  garment. 

And  darkness  its  swaddling  bands ; 
10    And  brake  up  against  it  my  bound. 

And  appointed  a  bar  and  doors ; 

And  said,  Thus  far  may'st  thou  come,  but  no 
further. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      97 

And  here  be  a  bound  for  the  pride  of  thy  waves ! 

Hast  thou  ever  commanded  a  morning  ? 

Hast  shown  to  a  dawning  its  place, 

To  lay  hold  of  the  corners  of  earth, 

That  thence  may  be  shaken  the  wicked  ? 

It  changes  like  signet-clay. 

So  that  things  appear  as  a  garment. 

15    And  their  Ught  is  withdrawn  from  the  wicked, 
And  shattered  the  arrogant  arm. 
Hast  thou  gone  to  the  springs  of  the  sea. 
And  walked  in  the  depth  of  the  deep? 
Have  death's  gates  been  uncovered  to  thee, 
And  the  gates  of  deep  gloom  canst  thou  see  ? 
Hast  observed  to  the  ends  of  earth? 
Declare,  if  thou  knowest  it  all. 
Which  is  the  way  to  light's  dwelling. 
And  the  darkness,  which  is  its  place  ? 

20    That  unto  its  bound  thou  couldst  bring  it, 
And  perceivest  the  paths  of  its  house. 
Thou  knowest,  for  then  thou  wast  born, 
And  great  is  the  sum  of  thy  days  ! 
Hast  thou  come  to  the  storehouse  of  snow, 
And  the  storehouse  of  hail  canst  thou  see. 
Which  I  save  for  the  time  of  distress. 
For  the  day  of  encounter  and  war  ? 
Which  is  the  way  tliither  where  light  is  divided, 
Where  the  east  wind  spreads  out  o'er  the  earth  ? 

25    Who  cleaveth  a  course  for  the  rain. 

And  a  path  for  the  bolt  of  the  thunders  ? 


98  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

To  give  rain  on  a  land  without  men, 

On  a  desert  in  which  no  man  lives  ; 

To  satisfy  desert  and  waste, 

And  to  make  the  meadow  bloom  forth. 

Is  there  for  the  rain  a  father, 

Or  who  doth  beget  the  dew-droj^s  ? 

From  whose  womb  doth  the  ice  come  forth, 

And  who  bears  the  hoar-frost  of  the  skies  ? 

30    Like  a  stone  are  the  waters  congealed, 
And  the  face  of  the  deep  groweth  firm. 
Canst  thou  bind  fast  the  Pleiades'  bands. 
Or  loosen  the  cords  of  Orion  ? 
Bring  forth  at  their  time  the  Stations, 
And  the  Bear  with  her  young  canst  thou  lead  ? 
Dost  thou  know  the  decrees  of  the  sky, 
Or  canst  fix  its  dominion  on  earth  ? 
Canst  thou  lift  up  thy  voice  to  the  clouds. 
So  that  waters  shall  cover  thee  riclily  ? 

35    The  lightnings  canst  send,  that  they  go 
And  say  unto  thee,  Behold  us ! 
Who  placed  in  the  cloud-depths  wisdom, 
Or  gave  to  the  seen  cloud  insight  ? 
Who  can  count  the  thin  clouds  in  wisdom. 
And  who  pour  out  the  flasks  of  the  skies. 
When  the  dust  melteth  into  a  mass. 
And  the  clods  cleave  fast  to  each  other  ? 
Canst  thou  hunt  for  the  lioness  prey, 
And  the  young  lions'  appetite  sate, 

40    When  they  crouch  in  their  lurking-places. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.      99 

When  they  lie  in  wait  in  the  lair  ? 
Who  prepares  for  the  raven  his  food, 
When  his  young  cry  aloud  unto  God, 
When  they  wander  around  without  food  ? 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

DOST  thou  know  when  the  rock-goats  bring 
forth? 

The  travail  of  hinds  canst  thou  mark  ? 

Canst  thou  count  the  months  they  fulfill. 

And  the  time  when  they  bear  dost  thou  know  ? 

They  crouch,  let  their  young  break  forth, 

Their  pangs  they  cast  off. 

Their  young  become  strong,  they  grow  up  in  the 
field; 

They  go  forth,  and  return  not  again. 
5      Who  has  sent  the  wild  ass  away  free, 

And  the  bands  of  the  fleet  one  hath  loosed  ? 

To  whose  house  I  have  made  the  waste  place, 

And  the  desert  of  salt  his  abode. 

He  doth  laugh  at  the  din  of  the  town. 

The  noise  of  the  driver  he  hears  not. 

The  mountains'  choice  spots  are  his  pasture, 

And  for  every  green  thing  he  doth  seek. 

Is  the  wild  ox  willing  to  serve  thee, 

Will  he  pass  the  night  at  thy  crib  ? 
10    Canst  thou  bind  the  wild  ox  to  the  ridge  with 
his  cord. 


100  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Or  harrow  the  valleys  behind  thee  will  he  ? 

Dost  thou  trust  him  since  great  is  his  strength, 

And  committest  thy  labor  to  him  ? 

Dost  thou  trust  him  to  gather  thy  seed, 
And  bring  to  thy  floor  ? 

The  wing  of  the  ostrich  waves  gladly  : 

Is't  a  gentle  feather  and  pinion  ? 

Nay,  she  leaveth  her  eggs  to  the  earth. 

And  warmeth  them  on  the  dust ; 
15    She  forgets  that  a  foot  may  crush  them. 

May  trample  them  beasts  of  the  field. 

She  treats  harshly  her  young,  as  not  hers  ; 

Is  her  labor  in  vain,  she  cares  not ; 

For  wisdom  God  made  her  forget. 

And  gave  her  no  dower  in  insight. 

When  she  beateth  her  pinions  on  high, 

She  doth  laugh  at  the  horse  and  his  rider. 

Canst  thou  give  to  the  charger  strength  ? 

Canst  thou  mantle  his  neck  with  trembling? 
20    Canst  thou  cause  him  to  leap  as  a  locust  ? 

A  dread  is  his  neighing  majestic. 

He  stamps  in  the  valley,  and  joys  in  his  might ; 

To  meet  the  armed  host  he  goes  forth. 

He  laugheth  at  fear  unamazed. 

And  turneth  not  back  from  the  sword. 

Upon  him  the  quiver  doth  rattle. 

The  glittering  lance  and  spear. 

With  stamping  and  anger  he  swallows  the  earth. 

And  stays  not  when  soundeth  the  trumpet. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.    101 

25    He  saith  when  it  soundeth,  Aha ! 

And  from  far  he  scenteth  the  battle, 

The  princes'  shout  and  the  war-cry. 

Doth  the  hawk  sj^read  his  wings  by  thine  insight, 

His  pinions  stretch  out  for  the  south  ? 

Or  soars,  at  thy  bidding,  the  eagle. 

And  buildeth  his  eyrie  on  high  ? 

He  dwells  on  the  rock,  and  doth  lodge 

On  the  crag  of  the  rock  and  stronghold. 

From  thence  he  doth  sjDy  out  food. 

His  eyes  can  behold  from  afar. 
30    And  his  brood  quaff  blood, 

And  where  carcasses  are,  there  is  he. 


A 


CHAPTER  XL. 
ND  Jehovah  answered  Job  and  said 


SHALL    there    strive   with   the   Almighty    a 

chider  ? 
Answer  that  let  Eldah's  rebuker ! 

AND  Job  answered  Jehovali  and  said : 

BEHOLD,  I  am  small !  What  answer  I  thee  ? 
My  hand  I  do  lay  on  my  mouth. 
5    I  spake  once,  but  begin  not  again ; 
And  twice,  but  I  do  it  no  more. 


102  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

AND  Jehovah  answered  Job  out  of  the  whirl- 
wmd  and  said: 

Up  !   Gird  thy  loins  Hke  a  man ; 

I  will  ask  thee,  and  make  me  to  know. 

Wilt  thou  even  destroy  my  right, 

Condemn  me,  thyself  to  make  just  ? 

Or  hast  thou  an  arm  such  as  God's, 

With  a  voice  like  Him  canst  thou  thunder  ? 
10    Put  on  now  splendor  and  highness, 

In  glory  and  majesty  clothe  thee. 

Pour  out  the  floods  of  thy  wrath ; 

See  all  that  is  proud,  and  abase  it  • 

See  all  that  is  lofty,  subdue  it. 

And  the  wicked  tread  down  in  their  place ; 

In  the  dust  together  conceal  them, 

Their  face  do  thou  hide  in  the  gloom : 

And  then  I,  even  I,  will  praise  thee, 

Because  thy  right  hand  brings  thee  help. 
15    See  now  Behemoth  that  I  made  with  thee : 

He  eateth  grass  like  an  ox. 

Behold,  in  his  loins  is  his  strength. 

In  the  cords  of  his  belly  his  might. 

He  bendeth  his  tail  like  a  cedar ; 

Interlaced  are  the  bands  of  his  thighs. 

His  bones  are  bars  of  brass, 

His  bones  like  an  iron  rod. 

The  firstling  is  he  of  God's  ways, 

One  made  to  apj)ly  his  sword. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.    103 

20    For  mountains  furnish  him  fodder, 

While  all  beasts  of  the  field  play  thereby. 
Beneath  the  lotus  he  lies, 
In  seclusion  of  cane  and  swamp. 
The  lotus,  his  shade,  decks  him  o'er. 
The  brook-wiUows  encompass  him  round. 
Lo,  swelleth  the  stream,  he's  not  frightened ; 
He  is  calm  though  a  Jordan  rush  toward  his 
mouth. 

In  his  eyes  let  one  take  liim ! 
Let  one  pierce  through  his  nose  with  hooks ! 


CHAPTER  XLL 

CANST  thou  draw  with  a  hook  the  levia- 
than, 
And  canst  hold  down  his  tongue  with  the  cord  ? 
Canst  thou  put  a  ring  in  his  nose. 
And  pierce  through  his  cheek  with  a  thorn  ? 
Will  he  multijily  prayers  unto  thee. 
Or  speak  to  thee  flattering  words  ? 
Will  he  make  a  covenant  with  thee, 
Wilt  thou  take  him  as  servant  for  aye  ? 
Canst  thou  play  with  him  as  a  bird. 
And  bind  him  canst  thou  for  thy  maids  ? 
Do  the  fishermen  bargain  for  him, 
Among  the  Phoenicians  divide  Imn  ? 


104  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Canst  thou  fill  with  arrows  his  skin, 

And  with  fish-harpoons  his  head  ? 

Put  thou  upon  him  thy  hands ! 

The  conflict  remember  !  repeat  not ! 

Behold,  his  hojDe  has  deceived ; 

Is  he  not,  e'en  at  sight  of  him,  jDrostrate  ? 
10    None  so  bold  that  he  rouseth  him  up : 

And  who  then  will  stand  before  me  ? 

Who  first  gave  me,  that  I  must  repay  ? 

Beneath  the  whole  sky,  it  is  mine  ! 

I  will  not  pass  in  silence  liis  limbs, 

The  point  of  great  strength,  and  his  beauty  of 
frame. 

Who  has  laid  bare  the  front  of  his  garment, 

Through  his  teeth  twofold  who  can  come  ? 

Who  has  opened  the  doors  of  his  face  ? 

Round  about  his  teeth  is  dread ! 
15    A  pride  are  the  bars  of  the  shields, 

Locked  up  with  a  seal  most  firm. 

They  join  one  unto  another, 

That  no  air  between  them  can  come. 

They  are  fastened  each  one  to  its  brother. 

They  cling  closely  and  separate  not. 

His  neezings  do  radiate  light. 

And  like  eyelids  of  dawn  are  his  eyes. 

From  his  mouth  do  torches  proceed. 

Sparks  of  fire  fly  out. 
20    From  his  nostrils  a  smoke  goeth  forth, 

As  from  seething  kettle  and  reeds. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.    105 

His  breath  enkindletli  coals, 

And  a  flame  from  his  mouth  comes  forth. 

On  his  neck  doth  power  abide, 

And  terror  before  him  casts  down. 

The  leaves  of  his  flesh  cleave  together ; 

Molten  upon  him  they  move  not. 

His  heart  is  firm  as  a  stone. 

And  hard  as  the  nether  mill-stone. 
25    Of  his  rising  strong  ones  are  afraid, 

Through  great  fear  they  are  senseless. 

Doth  one  reach  him  with  sword,  it  holds  not, 

Neither  lance  nor  spear  nor  harpoon. 

As  stubble  esteemeth  he  iron, 

As  wood  that  is  rotten,  brass. 

A  son  of  the  bow  scares  him  not, 

Slingstones  turn  to  stubble  for  him. 

The  bludgeons  are  valued  as  stubble, 

And  he  laughs  at  the  noise  of  the  spear. 
30    Beneath  him  are  sharpest  sherds  ; 

He  sjDreads  out  a  flail  on  the  slime. 

He  makes  the  deep  boil  as  a  pot. 

The  sea  he  makes  as  a  brewing. 

Behind  him  shineth  a  path ; 

One  might  think  that  the  deep  were  gray  hairs. 

On  earth  there  is  not  his  equal. 
One  made  without  fear. 

Whatever  is  high  he  beholds, 

Over  all  sons  of  strength  he  is  king. 


106  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 


A 


CHAPTER  XLIl  1-6. 
ND  Job  answered  Jehovah  and  said 


I  KNOW  Thou  canst  all  thmgs  perform, 
And  no  plan  is  for  Thee  too  hard. 
"Who  now  is  darkenmo-  counsel  unknowino; ?" 
So  I  made  known  my  thought  and  not  wisely, 
Things  too  lofty  for  me,  and  I  knew  not. 
"  O  listen,  and  I  will  speak ; 
I  will  ask  Thee  and  make  me  to  know." 
By  hearsay,  of  Thee  I  had  heard. 
But  now  hath  mine  eye  beheld  Thee : 
Therefore  I  recant  and  repent 
In  dust  and  ashes. 


A  RHYTHMICAL  TRANSLATION.    107 


THE  EPILOGUE. 
CHAPTER  XLII,  7-17. 

AND  it  came  to  pass  after  Jehovali  had 
spoken  these  words  unto  Job,  that  Jeho- 
vah said  unto  Eliphaz  the  Temanite,  My  anger 
is  kindled  against  thee  and  against  thy  two 
friends,  because  ye  have  Jiot  spoken  truly  con- 
cerning me,  as  has  my  servant  Job.  And 
now  take  you  seven  bullocks  and  seven  rams, 
and  go  unto  my  servant  Job,  and  offer  for 
yourselves  a  burnt  offering,  and  Job  my  ser- 
vant shall  pray  for  you ;  his  face  alone  will  I 
accept,  that  I  may  not  bring  upon  you  the 
dues  of  folly,  for  ye  have  not  spoken  truly 
concerning  me,  as  has  my  servant  Job.  And 
Eliphaz  the  Temanite,  and  Bildad  the  Shuhite, 
Zophar  the  Naamathite,  went  and  did  as  Jeho- 
vah had  said  unto  them,  and  Jehovah  accepted 
lo]  the  person  of  Job.  And  Jehovah  restored 
the  prosperity  of  Job,  while  he  was  praying 
for  his  friends.  And  Jehovah  increased  all 
that  Job  had  possessed  twofold.  Then  came 
to  him  all  his  brothers  and  all  his  sisters,  and 
all  his  former  acquaintances,  and  they  ate 
bread  with  him  in  his  house,  and  they  pitied 


108  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

him  and  comforted  him,  because  of  the  evil 
which  Jehovah  had  brought  upon  him.  And 
each  gave  him  a  kesita,  and  each  a  golden 
ring.  And  Jehovah  blessed  the  latter  end  of 
Job  more  than  his  beginning.  And  he  had 
fourteen  thousand  sheep,  and  six  thousand 
camels,  and  a  thousand  yoke  of  oxen,  and  a 
thousand  she-asses.  And  he  had  seven  sons 
and  three  daughters.  And  he  called  the 
name  of  the  first  Jemima,  and  the  name  of 
the  second  Kezia,  and  the  name  of  the  third 
15]  Keren-Haj)puch.  And  women  were  not 
found  in  all  the  land  as  beautiful  as  the 
daughters  of  Job;  and  their  father  gave 
them  an  inheritance  among  their  brothers. 
Now  Job  lived  after  this  one  hundred  and 
forty  years,  and  he  saw  his  sons  and  his  sons' 
sons  through  four  generations.  And  Job  died 
old  and  full  of  days. 


PART  II. 
INTERPRETATION   OF  THE  POEM 


PART  II. 
INTERPRETATION   OF   THE  POEM. 


CHAPTER  I. 
A  BRIEF  ANALYSIS   OF  JOB. 

IN  the  second  and  fourth  scenes  of  the  Pro- 
logue (Chapter  i.  6-12 ;  ii.  1-6),  the  poet 
gives  us,  in  the  conversation  between  Jehovah 
and  the  Adversary,  the  theme  of  his  composi- 
tion. After  God  had  spoken  in  high  praise 
of  His  servant  Job,  as  a  man  ''  blameless  and 
upright,"  the  Adversary  challenged  Him  to 
test  this  apparent  piety  of  His  servant,  insinu- 
ating that  it  was  in  reality  only  selfishness. 
Job  followed  godliness  because  of  the  mate- 
rial blessings  which  he  thus  secured.  Take 
these  away,  and  the  truth  would  appear :  Job 
would  renounce  God.  The  challenge  is  accejjt- 
ed.  Job  is  smitten  with  the  sudden  and  mys- 
terious loss  of  all  his  wealth  and  all  his  child- 
ren ;  but  he  does  not  renounce  God.  On  the 
contrary,  he  takes  his  refuge  m  Him. 

"Jehovah  gave,  and  Jehovah  hath  taken  ; 
The  name  of  Jehovah  be  blessed !" 

In  the  second  conversation  in  heaven,  God 


112  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

again  commends  His  servant,  and  says,  in 
effect,  that  the  Adversary  has  called  his  piety 
in  question  without  ground.  But  Satan  is  not 
silenced.  He  still  professes  to  believe  that 
Job's  piety  is  not  genume.  Let  suffering 
come  home  to  him  in  the  form  of  siclaiess: 
he  will  yet  renounce  God.  It  will  be  seen 
that  the  man  whom  Jehovah  fondly  believes 
"blameless  and  upright"  is  so  in  appearance 
only.  He  will  sooner  give  up  God  than  his 
own  life.  Satan's  second  challenge  is  accei)t- 
ed.  He  receives  the  desired  permission,  and 
smites  Job  with  leprosy.  The  Prologue  takes 
us  one  step  further,  and  records  that  Job's 
allegiance  to  God  still  remained  unshaken. 
But  will  this  allegiance  contmue?  WiU  the 
confidence  of  God  in  Job  be  justified?  The 
end  is  not  yet.  Job  is  smitten  with  leprosy ; 
and,  with  the  increasing  loathsomeness  and 
painfuhiess  of  the  dread  disease,  the  hour 
may  yet  come  when  Satan's  charge  will  be  es- 
tablished. The  Prologue  leaves  us  in  suspense. 
We  look  for  further  developments.  If,  there- 
fore, the  poem  that  foUows  is  true  to  the  Pro- 
logue, it  will  show  that  the  piety  of  Job  was 
indeed  unselfish ;  that  he  had  a  loyalty  to  con- 
science from  which  neither  friend  nor  foe  could 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  113 

cause  him  to  err ;  that  he  had  a  trust  m  God 
which  was  able  to  bear  the  strain  of  utmost 
suffering  and  utmost  mystery.  It  will  show  us 
the  struggles  of  a  man  who  is  tried  in  order 
to  refute  the  slander  of  Satan  and  vindicate 
the  confidence  of  God.  It  will  answer  the 
question  whether  God  is  able  to  win  the  im- 
movable attachment  of  a  human  soul.  The 
Prologiie  has  answered  this  question  down  to 
the  hour  when  the  bitterness  of  Job's  losses 
and  sufferings  began  to  settle  into  his  spirit ; 
when,  sitting  upon  the  leper's  ash-heap,  bereft 
and  outcast,  he  began  to  ponder  his  lot,  and 
to  feel  the  inexplicable  conflict  between  his 
cherished  belief  and  the  facts  of  his  recent 
experience.  Here,  with  this  inner  conflict,  this 
spiritual  struggle,  the  poem  begms. 

The  theme  which  we  have  thus  found  in  the 
Prologue  seems  to  be  plainly  the  theme  of  the 
subsequent  poem.  For  this  follows  the  spirit 
of  Job  through  its  long  and  terrible  experience 
until  it  comes  out  upon  the  uplands  of  a  divine 
calm  and  assurance  and  fellowship.  It  is  in- 
deed a  poem  of  victory,  agreeably  with  the  his- 
tory and  hints  contained  in  the  Prologue. 
This  is  its  central  thought.  Under  this,  all  its 
parts  fit  harmoniously  together.  It  is  a  poem 
8 


114  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

of  resplendent  victory,  for  its  hero,  single- 
handed,  defeats  his  unseen  and  immortal  Ad- 
versary, triumphs  over  his  well-meanmg  but 
dangerous  friends,  and  holds  his  ground  even 
when  he  thinks  he  is  assaulted  by  God  Him- 
seK.  He  abides  by  the  assertion  of  his  good 
conscience  though  the  heavens  seem  to  be  war- 
ring against  him. 

"  Behold,  He  will  slay  me :  I  hope  not : 
But  my  ways  I  will  prove  to  his  face." 

The  poet  establishes  the  fact  that  such  a 
thing  as  unselfish  piety  is  possible  to  a  mortal 
on  earth.  He  shows  it  to  us,  out  of  the  fur- 
nace and  in  the  furnace,  in  his  hero  Job.  We 
of  course  bear  in  mind  that  the  glimpses  mto 
God's  purpose  which  the  poet  gives  us  in  the 
Prologue  are  not  given  to  Job  himself.  They 
are  for  the  reader,  from  the  poet.  Job  does 
not  know  that  he  is  to  fight  a  battle  for  God. 
He  does  not  Imow  that  it  is  Satan,  not  God, 
who  has  brought  his  losses  upon  him.  He  does 
not  know  that  God  has  such  a  confidence  m 
him  that  He  is  willing  to  let  Satan  test  him  to 
the  utmost.    The  sky  is  all  dark  to  his  gaze. 

This  theme,  of  which  we  have  been  speak- 
ing, is  noteworthy  among  those  chosen  by  great 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  115 

poets  for  their  most  elaborate  productions. 
The  theme  of  the  Ihad  is  the  restoration  of  a 
Spartan  woman,  whom  a  Trojan  prince  had 
abducted.  The  long  war  that  was  caused  by 
this  abduction ;  the  counsels  and  intrigues  of 
gods  and  goddesses,  who  took  sides  with  the 
contending  parties ;  the  valorous  exploits  of 
individual  heroes  during  the  long  siege  of  Troy, 
the  bitter  feuds  of  the  Greek  leaders,  and  the 
sports  which  were  mingled  with  the  sterner 
scenes  of  war, —  these  furnish  the  poet  with 
materials  for  his  epic.  Doubtless  the  theme 
was  wisely  chosen  with  reference  to  the  poet's 
influence  on  his  warlike  peoj^le.  It  was  a 
popular  theme,  but  not  a  profound  one.  The 
poem  based  upon  it  has  to  do,  essentially,  with 
man  as  related  to  man,  not  as  related  to  God ; 
with  man  as  a  physical  being,  full  of  desu-es 
and  passions,  rather  than  as  a  spiritual  being, 
with  a  conscience  and  an  immortal  soul. 

The  theme  of  Dante's  great  poem  is  given 
by  him  in  these  words :  "  If  it  shall  be  the 
pleasure  of  Hun,  through  whom  all  thmgs  live, 
that  my  life  continue  somewhat  longer,  I  hope 
to  say  of  her  [Beatrice]  what  never  yet  was 
said  of  any  woman."  The  eyes  of  an  Italian 
maiden  were  the  impulse  and  the  theme  of  the 


116  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Divine  Comedy.  But  the  action  of  the  poem^ 
lying  as  it  does  beyond  the  confines  of  the 
grave,  does  not  come  so  near  to  the  heart  of 
man  as  does  the  action  of  the  Iliad  or  of  the 
^neid.  It  possesses  charms  for  the  fancy  and 
the  imagination  which  they  do  not  have.  It 
has  a  seriousness  of  thought  and  a  depth  of 
solemn  truth  unknown  to  the  poems  of  Virgil 
and  Homer.  But  the  general  theme,  the  praise 
of  Beatrice,  is  less  profoundly  a  theme  for  the 
ages  and  the  race  than  is  the  theme  of  the 
Hebrew  bard ;  and  the  special  theme  of  the  Di- 
vine Comedy — the  progress  of  Dante  through 
Hell,  Purgatory,  and  Paradise,  up  to  the  Primal 
Light, —  is  too  speculative  and  too  full  of 
heathen  ideas  to  engage  permanently,  to  in- 
struct or  comfort  the  Christian  soul  amid  the 
mysteries  of  life. 

Milton,  conforming  to  classic  models,  gives  us 
the  theme  of  his  great  poem  in  its  opening  lines : 

"  Of  man's  first  disobedience,  and  the  fruit 
Of  that  forbidden  tree,  whose  mortal  taste 
Brought  death  into  the  world,  and  all  our  woe — 
Sing,  heavenly  Muse." 
His  purpose  was  to 

"  Assert  eternal  Providence, 
And  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  men." 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  117 

This  is  not  wliolly  different  from  the  purpose 
of  the  author  of  Job.  He  also,  to  a  certain 
extent,  justifies  the  ways  of  God  to  man,  for 
he  clears  the  government  of  God  of  the  re- 
proach that  might  justly  be  brought  against  it, 
as  it  was  expounded  in  the  universal  doctrine 
of  his  day.  Milton's  theme,  however,  lies 
further  from  the  every-day  life  of  men  than 
does  the  theme  of  Job.  "  Paradise  Lost "  is, 
like  the  Hebrew  poem,  a  story  of  suffering ; 
but  that  suffering  is  not  common  to  man.  It 
is  a  historical  fact,  not  a  constantly  recurring 
personal  experience.  The  theme  of  Job  is  a 
part  of  every  true  man's  life.  Every  servant 
of  God  is  engaged  on  His  side  in  the  great 
conflict  with  the  forces  of  darkness.  Satan 
challenges  the  piety  of  every  servant  of  God, 
and  endeavors  to  break  it  down.  Every  one 
is  called  to  suffer  and  be  strong,  every  one 
meets  with  mysteries  on  the  right  hand  and  on 
the  left,  confusing  and  bewildering,  whose  solu- 
tion must  be  left  to  the  future.  The  struggle 
of  Job  is  repeated  over  and  over  again  in  the 
experience  of  earnest  souls,  though  the  form 
and  conditions  of  it  are  ever  chanji'ino'.  His 
experience  touches  our  deepest  life  at  many  a 
point.     His  story,  therefore,  will  have  a  living 


118  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

interest  as  long  as  there  is  a  conscience  in 
man,  and  as  long  as  a  human  sj)irit  cries,  out 
of  the  darkness  and  mystery  of  earth,  "  Oh 
that  I  knew  where  to  find  Him  I  " 

In  connection  with  the  theme  of  Job,  atten- 
tion may  be  called,  in  passing,  to  the  fact  that 
this  is  the  only  one  of  the  greater  poems  of 
history  in  which  woman  plays  no  part.  The 
most  famous  productions  of  poetical  genius 
draw  much  of  their  inspiration  from  the  pres- 
ence of  woman  and  the  passion  of  love.  What 
would  the  Iliad  be  without  Helen,  Andromecha, 
Briseis,  and  a  host  of  other  fair  women  ?  Of 
how  much  of  its  beauty  and  power  would  the 
Divine  Comedy  be  robbed,  were  all  the  visions 
of  Beatrice  stricken  from  it,  "  Whose  eyes 
would  make  one  ha23py  in  the  fire  "  ?  What 
darkness  would  come  upon  the  pages  of  Milton 
and  Shakespeare,  were  their  dreams  of  noble 
and  beautiful  women  to  fade  and  vanish  ?  But 
the  Hebrew  poem  which  we  are  considering 
has  won  a  large  place  in  the  literature  of  the 
world,  although  it  has  not  availed  itself  of  the 
profound  motive  which  has  added  so  much  to 
the  attractiveness  and  power  of  other  great 
poetical  productions. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  119 

Having*  spoken  thus  briefly  of  the  theme  of 
Job,  we  notice,  m  the  next  place,  the  charac- 
ters introduced  by  the  poet ;  not  the  dramatis 
l)crsonai.,  for  the  poem,  though  dramatic  in  the 
intense  sj^iritual  activity  of  its  hero  and  in  its 
animated  dialogues,  is  not  properly  a  drama. 
It  is  epic,  rather,  in  structure  and  tone :  a 
heroic  poem  in  the  truest  sense.  Excepting 
Satan,  who  appears  only  m  the  Prologue — un- 
less we  think  of  him  as  having  some  part  in 
what  Job's  friends  say, —  the  development  of 
the  theme  is  carried  on  by  Job,  his  three 
friends,  Eli2)haz,  Bildad,  and  Zophar,  by  Elihu 
and  Jehovah.  Job,  a  man  advanced  in  years, 
is  a  wealthy  and  upright  land-owner  of  Uz — 
an  Aramaic  district  eastward  from  Palestine, 
traditionally  and  usually  found  in  the  Hauran, 
but  located  by  Professor  Frederick  Delitzsch 
northeastward  from  Damascus.  Job  appar- 
ently does  not  belong  to  the  chosen  people  ;  is 
not  a  Hebrew.  The  poem,  therefore,  which 
magnifies  his  character,  is  a  monument  to  the 
author's  catholic  spirit.  He  recognized  good 
outside  of  Israel ;  he  believed  that  God  could 
make  a  man  righteous  without  the  law  and  the 
prophets.  In  this  respect  Job  is  a  parallel  to 
King  Melchizedek,  and  to  Ruth  the  Gentile 


120  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

ancestress  of  David,  and  so  of  the  Messiah. 
Job's  name  is  not  regarded  by  the  poet  as  in 
anjrwise  significant ;  and  it  is  hence  concluded 
that  it  was  not  invented,  but  was  handed  down 
to  the  writer.  With  the  name  the  poet  doubt- 
less received  certain  facts  concerninfj"  the  char- 
acter  and  experience  of  Job,  which  formed  the 
basis  of  his  poem.  This  is  the  view  generally 
accepted  by  scholars.  Just  what  the  facts  were 
to  which  the  poet  had  access,  it  is  of  course 
impossible  to  say,  and  it  is  also  unimportant ; 
even  as,  for  instance,  it  is  impossible  and  of  no 
great  moment  to  determine  how  much  of  his- 
torical fact  underlies  Shakespeare's  "Tempest." 
It  would  be  of  greater  interest  to  know  who 
the  princely  spirit  was  from  whose  mind  and 
heart  the  poem  sprang ;  but  even  this  were  of 
little  import,  either  for  him  or  for  us.  We  only 
know  that  he  was  an  Israelite,  and  belonged  to 
the  Golden  Age  of  Hebrew  literature,  his  poem 
being  its  consummate  jewel.  Were  he  known 
by  name,  we  could  still  honor  him  best  by  lov- 
ing the  truth  which  he  taught ;  but  this  we 
can  do  equally  well  now,  he  being  unkno^\'n. 

Job  is  portrayed  as  of  tender  conscience  and 
deep  religious  feeling,  a  man  of  prudence  and 
wisdom,  liberal  and  sympathetic,  bold  in  his 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  121 

opposition  to  wrong-doers,  cheerful  and  hope- 
ful when  others  are  downcast, — a  man  honored 
and  beloved  by  all.  He  is  a  man  who  loves 
the  truth  more  than  he  loves  his  own  opinion 
of  the  truth,  and  whose  mind  is  consequently 
open  and  receptive.  He  is  a  man  capable  of 
profound  and  fiery  emotion,  though  by  no 
means  unstable  in  his  judgment.  He  is  one 
who  in  the  extreme  hour  has  the  courage  of 
his  convictions,  and  who  loves  the  name  of 
honor  more  than  he  fears  death. 

Eliphaz,  the  mildest  in  disposition  and  the  wis- 
est of  the  three  friends,  is  not  only  older  than 
they,  as  is  proved  by  his  speaking  before  them 
and  by  his  richer  experience,  but  he  is  also,  as 
it  would  seem  (Chapter  xv.  10),  much  older 
than  Job  himself.  He  is  an  Edomite,  and 
comes  from  Teman,  famous  for  its  wisdom 
(Jer.  xlix.  7).  He  is  jDrofounder  and  gentler 
than  his  two  companions,  a  worthy  and  digni- 
fied representative  of  a  narrow  doctrine.  Bil- 
dad  from  Shuah  might  seem  to  be  descended 
from  Abraliam  and  Keturah.  His  home  is 
located  indefinitely  in  the  "east  country" 
(Gen.  xxv.  6).  Bildad  appeals  to  tradition, 
as  Eliphaz  appealed  to  his  o^^^l  experience. 
He  is  richer  m  thought  and  poetical  expression 


122  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

than  Zopliar.  The  latter,  from  the  unknown 
city  of  Naamah,  is  more  of  a  dogmatist  and 
less  of  a  poet  than  either  Bildad  or  Eliphaz. 

It  is  characteristic  of  all  the  friends,  as  over 
against  Job,  that,  while  they  are  not  destitute 
of  human  sympathy,  they  soon  become  hard 
and  cruel  in  their  judgments  when  anyone 
dares  to  deny  the  validity  of  their  reasoning. 
They  fancy  that  they  are  already  in  possession 
of  the  truth,  and  hence  they  are  not  truth- 
seekers.  They  are  all  unfair  in  their  judg- 
ment of  Job,  because  they  do  not  take  account 
of  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  his  case.  They 
put  him  on  the  Procrustean  couch  of  their 
dogma  and  fit  him  to  it,  though  m  the  process 
they  are  obliged  to  lop  off  very  suggestive  facts 
in  Job's  consciousness  and  life.  They  are  all 
stubborn,  not  naturally  but  by  reason  of  their 
religious  pride. 

Elihu,  who  next  appears  on  the  scene  as  an 
opponent  of  Job,  and  whose  appearance  em- 
phasizes the  universality  of  that  theory  of  suf- 
fering which  the  poem  overthrows,  is  of  Aramaic 
origin  (Gen.  xxii.  21),  like  Job  himself.  He 
is  a  young  man,  a  veritable  Hotspur.  He  is 
angry  at  Job  because  he  has  justified  himseK 
rather  than   God ;  and   angry  at  the   friends 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  123 

because  they  liave  not  silenced  Job.  He  seems 
to  have  been  present  as  a  listener  from  the 
beginning  of  the  poem.  He  was  not  mentioned 
by  the  poet  at  the  outset ;  and  this  may  be  due 
to  the  fact  that  he  was  not  to  appear  till  near 
the  close  of  the  poem,  and  then  in  a  role  of 
secondary  importance.  He  is  not  introduced 
until  he  can  speak.  Consistently  with  his 
youth,  and  with  the  fact  that  his  aroused  feel- 
ings have  been  so  long  pent  up  —  for  he  says 
that  his  breast  is  ready  to  burst  like  new 
flasks, — he  speaks  less  tersely  and  clearly  than 
the  friends,  especially  at  the  beginning  of  his 
speech.  It  is  also  in  keeping  v>^ith  his  youth- 
fulness  that  his  langiiage  is  often  somewhat 
flowery,  and  that  his  bearing  savors  of  a  pretty 
strong  self-consciousness.  But  if  these  pecul- 
iarities are  all  consistent  with  the  avowed 
youth  of  Elilm,  it  is  plainly  wide  of  the  mark 
when  they  are  urged  against  the  originality  of 
his  words.  They  speak  for  the  art  of  the  poet, 
and  not  for  the  theory  that  Elihu's  part  is  the 
work  of  a  later  hand. 

The  remaining  speaker  is  Jehovah,  on  whose 
discourse  the  poet  bestows  his  best  skill. 

We  turn  now  to  the  general  development 


124  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

of  the  poem.  In  the  six  picturesque  and 
dramatic  scenes  of  the  Prologue,  we  are  made 
acquainted  with  Job,  with  his  sudden  and 
mysterious  afflictions,  with  the  motives  which 
induced  God  to  permit  these  to  befall  him, 
and  at  last  with  the  three  friends,  who  are  intro- 
duced seven  days  before  the  action  of  the  poem 
begins.  After  these  days  of  silence  pass,  in 
which  Job's  spirit  becomes  sorely  troubled  and 
perplexed  by  the  mysteriousness  of  his  suffer- 
ings, and  in  which  the  presence  of  sympathetic 
friends  invites  him  to  pour  out  his  sorrow,  then 
his  noble  and  patient  bearing  of  grievous  losses 
is  succeeded  by  the  wild  torrent  of  complaint 
which  calls  out  the  reproof  of  the  friends ;  and 
thus  the  poem  opens. 

It  should  be  said  here,  that  the  course  of  the 
poem  is  determined  by  the  belief,  universal  in 
Job's  day,  that  the  favor  or  anger  of  God  may 
be  unerringly  inferred  from  the  prosperity  or 
adversity  of  the  earthly  lot.  It  was  this  doctrine 
in  its  most  rigid  form  which  the  three  friends 
held,  and  in  line  with  which  they  sought  to 
"  comfort  "  Job.  It  was  also  his  own  inbred 
belief ;  but  now  it  is  no  longer  possible  for  him 
to  hold  it.  He  breaks  loose  from  it,  and  strug- 
gles after  a  better  and  prof ounder  view  of  life. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  125 

In  this  struggle  his  only  solid  ground  is  his 
good  conscience  and  a  growing  conviction  that 
God  must  be  righteous  even  when  He  seems 
most  unrighteous.  After  Job's  passionate  ode 
has  opened  the  mouths  of  the  friends,  each  of 
them  takes  up  the  common  cause  against  him. 
Job  responds  to  the  words  of  each  in  turn. 
Once,  and  again,  and  again,  the  friends  seek 
to  bring  Job  to  their  mind  ;  though  Zophar  is 
silent  when  his  third  turn  comes  to  speak. 
The  friends  are  mild  at  first,  and  represent 
Job's  suffering  as  a  chastening*  designed  for 
his  good.     Eliphaz  says : 

'•  Lo,  happy  the  man  whom  Eldah  corrects, 

And  the  Almighty's  reproof  do  not  scorn  ; 

For  when  He  wounds,  He  binds  up  ; 

He  hurts,  and  His  hands  do  heal." 

And  Bildad  : 

"  If  thou  dost  seek  unto  God, 
And  to  the  Almighty  dost  pray  ; 
If  clean  and  upright  thou  art : 
Yea,  then  will  He  rouse  up  o'er  thee, 

And  thy  righteous  dwelling  restore 

He  will  yet  fill  thy  mouth  with  laughter 
And  thy  lips  with  the  sound  of  joy." 

Gradually  their  rejilies  become  more  severe,  as 
Job,  instead  of  yieldmg,  persists  m  asserting 


126  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

liis  innocence ;  and,  at  length,  they  do  not 
shrink  from  charging  Job  with  particular  and 
grievous  sins,  and  even  declare  that  what  has 
befallen  him  is  not  the  full  equivalent  of  his 
wickedness.  Even  the  mild  Eliphaz  speaks 
thus  in  his  last  ode : 

"•  Is  not  thy  wickedness  great, 
And  are  not  thy  sins  without  end  ?  " 

To  be  sure,  Job  has  been  widely  known  as  a 
good  man,  a  man  "  without  fear  and  without 
rej:) roach  ";  but  these  facts  are  brushed  away 
by  the  logic  of  the  friends'  doctrine.  Suffering 
argues  sin :  great  suffering  argues  great  sin. 
Job  has  unquestionably  been  overwhelmed  with 
great  afflictions  ;  therefore  he  must  have  com- 
mitted grave  sins.  He  has  doubtless  disre- 
garded the  hungry  and  thirsty,  he  has  neglected 
the  widow  and  broken  the  orphan's  arms.  He 
has  renounced  God,  and  has  led  an  arrogant, 
seK-centred  life.  They  carry  out  their  doctrine 
to  the  bitter  end,  and  blacken  the  character 
of  a  pure  man  to  save  their  narrow  dogma. 

As  for  Job,  all  the  elements  of  his  nature 
are  in  a  state  of  upheaval  at  the  beginning  of 
the  poem.  His  bold  impeachment  of  the  Divine 
righteousness,   his    impassioned    longings    for 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  127 

death,  and  his  most  inconsiderate  remarks 
concerning  his  friends,  are  to  be  found  in  his 
earlier  replies.  Sharing-  the  belief  that  the 
godly  and  upright  man  will  prosper  on  earth, 
he  is  brought  by  his  good  conscience  and  his 
great  sufferings  to  the  conclusion  that  God  is 
unjust. 

"  He  bruiseth  me  sore  with  a  tempest, 
And  adds  to  my  wounds  without  cause." 

"  'Tis  all  one,  and  so  I  declare  it : 
He  destroys  both  the  blameless  and  wicked. 
If  a  scourge  doth  suddenly  slay, 
The  despair  of  the  guiltless  He  mocks." 

"  Is't  becoming  in  Thee  to  oppress, 
To  scorn  the  fine  work  of  Thy  hands. 
And  shine  on  the  counsel  of  sinners  ?  " 

Job  feels  that  his  miseries  cannot  be  a  pun- 
islunent  for  sin ;  but,  if  they  are  not,  then 
where  is  the  justice  of  God  ?  He  is  not  just. 
But  there  is  no  comfort  in  such  a  conclusion, 
and  least  of  all  can  it  satisfy  the  deeply  relig- 
ious heart  of  Job.  He  cannot  give  God  up. 
There  must  be  another  side  to  His  character. 
There  must  be  a  witness  for  Job  in  heaven. 
He  knows  that  his  deliverer  lives,  and  some- 


128  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

time,  somewhere,  though  not  on  earth,  he  Is 
sure  of  an  acquittal.  Job  does  not  know  how 
to  solve  the  mystery  of  his  suffering,  but  he 
gradually  comes  to  the  sublime  belief  that 
it  is  solvable.  Not  at  once  does  he  reach  the 
conviction  that  he  can  keep  his  good  conscience 
and  his  God  also.  He  struggles  on  slowly, 
often  confused  and  perplexed,  often  torn  from 
his  moorings  by  the  waves  of  cruel  suffering ; 
but  his  clear  conscience, 

"  That  good  companion  which  emboldens  man 
Beneath  the  hauberk  of  its  feeling  pure," 

emboldens  him  more  and  more.  He  not  only 
does  not  renounce  God,  but  he  looks  confi- 
dently to  Him  for  an  attestation  of  his  inno- 
cence. 

In  the  first  cycle  of  the  poem.  Job  is  mainly 
concerned  with  the  thought  that  the  innocent 
sometimes  suifer  and  suffer  grievously.  His 
own  case  is  proof  of  this.  He  can  say  to  the 
Lord,  "Thou  knowest  I  am  not  guilty."  He 
by  no  means  clauns  that  his  life  has  been 
wholly  free  from  sm.  No  one,  he  saj^s,  can 
bring  forth  a  clean  thing  from  the  unclean. 
He  speaks  of  the  sins  of  his  youth,  and  admits 
that  God  by  searching  can  find  wickedness  in 
him  now,  can  spy  out  sin.       But  this  unpar- 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  129 

alleled  suffering,  falling  upon  liim,  as  it  were, 
out  of  a  clear  sky,  in  a  clay  when  he  felt  that 
God's  counsel  was  over  his  tent,  this  surely  is 
not  a  consequence  of  sin.  It  cannot  be.  His 
heart  rises  up  in  passionate  and  persistent  pro- 
test ao'ainst  the  false  notion  of  his  understand- 

o 

ing  and  the  doctrine  of  his  friends. 

In  the  second  cycle,  while  still  occupied  in 
part  with  the  suffering  of  the  innocent,  he  pre- 
sents also  the  thought  that  the  wicked  prosper. 
They  prosper  as  a  class. 

"  They  spend  their  days  in  good, 
And  go  down  in  a  wink  to  Shedl." 

Some  one  may  say.  Yes,  but  God  will  visit 
their  children  with  punishment.  This,  how- 
ever, does  not  at  all  satisfy  Job.  The  wicked 
man  himself  should  drink  of  the  wrath  of  the 
Almighty. 

"  For  what  recks  he  for  his  house  after  him, 
When  cut  off  is  his  number  of  months  ?  " 

Himself  is  the  one  to  suffer ;  but  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  he  escapes  punishment.  He  dies  in 
comfort ;  and  after  him  —  that  is,  after  his  ex- 
ample, 

"  goes  all  the  world, 
As  before  him  a  numberless  host." 


130  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

He  is  not  speaking  here  of  a  casual  occurrence, 
but  of  a  general  rule. 

In  tlie  third  cycle,  Job  still  protests  his  inno- 
cence, affirms  that  others  in  city  and  country 
suffer  without  cause,  and  that  God  prospers 
the  wicked.  He  is  as  far  as  ever  from  justify- 
ing the  friends.  He  still  cleaves  to  his  right, 
and  declares  that  his  heart  does  not  chide  one 
of  his  days.  But  he  presents  an  aspect  of  the 
truth  in  regard  to  the  wicked,  different  from 
that  found  in  the  last  cycle.  He  there  portrays 
the  prosperity  of  the  wicked ;  here,  toward  the 
close  of  his  ode,  he  portrays  their  misery, 
(chapter  xxvii.).  The  wicked,  as  a  class, 
so  he  says  now,  are  punished.  If  their  sons 
increase,  it  is  for  the  sword.  If  they  gather 
costly  raiment  and  heap  up  silver,  the  right- 
eous inherit  them.  God  hurls  his  judgment 
upon  the  wicked  unsparingly,  and  sweeps  them 
from  the  earth.  This  is  the  proj)er  lot  of  the 
wicked,  but  it  is  not  an  invariable  rule.  In 
the  last  cycle,  his  representation  was  that  the 
wicked  as  a  class  prosper.  But  granting,  as 
he  does  m  chaj)ter  xxvii.,  that  the  wicked 
man  is  destroyed  as  a  rule,  this  does  not  help 
to  solve  his  difficulties.  This  does  not  explain 
why  a  righteous  man  like  himseK  should  suffer. 


77'^^  INTERPRETATION.  131 

It  rather  makes  this  seem  more  inexphcable. 
It  is  a  ray  of  justice  that  makes  the  darkness 
of  GocVs  seeming'  injustice  more  mysterious. 
The  problem  is  still  as  far  from  a  solution  as 
ever,  though  Job's  feeling  in  regard  to  Him 
who  is  back  of  the  problem  has  changed.  Deep 
down  in  his  heart  he  believes  that  it  is  the  only 
wisdom  to  fear  God.  This  is  not  earthly  wis- 
dom, but  heavenly  ;  a  wisdom  that  is  not  given 
in  exchange  for  Ophir's  pure  gold.  Job's  lofty 
spiritual  praise  of  wisdom  shows  that  he  has 
known  her  as  one  friend  knows  another.  His 
heart  is  stiU  anchored  to  God. 

The  last  three  chapters  of  Job's  words 
(xxix.-xxxi.)  we  may  call  his  Soliloquy.  He 
no  longer  addresses  the  friends,  but  communes 
with  the  bright  j)ast,  now  vanished ;  com- 
munes also  with  his  sufferings,  and  with 
his  good  conscience.  That  past  appears  glori- 
ous because  God  was  in  it,  an  intimate  friend. 
The  bitterness  of  present  suffering  is  the  feel- 
ing that  God  has  cast  him  into  the  mire,  and 
is  persecuting  him.  God  is  changed,  toward 
him,  mto  a  tyrant.  Hence  it  is  that  his  cith- 
ern is  turned  into  weeping,  and  his  pipe  to  the 
voice  of  mourners.  And  yet  within  this  man 
who  feels  himself  a  brother  unto  jackals  and  a 


132  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

friend  to  tlie  daughters  of  wailing,  whose  skin 
grows  black  and  falls  off  with  the  progress  of 
his  disease,  and  whose  bones  burn  with  the 
heat,  there  is  a  good  conscience,  which  makes 
a  little  heaven,  as  it  were,  in  his  hell.  He 
gives  utterance  once  more  to  the  conviction  of 
his  innocence.  As  regards  the  accusations 
which  his  terrible  sufferings  seem  to  bring 
against  him,  he  can  fearlessly  say  that  he  is 
ready  to  be  weighed  in  God's  scales.  He 
waits  with  longing  for  some  answer  from  the 
Almighty. 

Then  Elihu  speaks,  not  with  the  arguments 
of  the  friends  throughout,  but  for  the  same 
general  end.  He  would  bring  Job  to  a  hum- 
ble confession  of  his  sins,  and  to  an  unqual- 
ified admission  of  the  righteousness  of  God. 
He  regards  Job  as  a  man  "  Who  drinketh  de- 
rision as  waters."  He  is  a  mocker  who  makes 
big  his  words  unto  God.  Therefore  he  is  full 
of  a  wicked  man's  sentence.  Elilui  fails  to 
comprehend  the  situation,  even  as  the  three 
friends  had  failed.  He  judges  Job  superfi- 
cially. He  lights  upon  the  rash  words  of  Job, 
and  takes  him  to  task  for  them ;  but  he  has  no 
appreciation  of  the  nobility  of  Job's  spirit 
and  life.     His  doctrine   of  sm  is  manifestly 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  133 

the  same  as  that  of  Eliphaz,  Bilclad,  and  Zo- 
phar.  He  differs,  however,  from  them  some- 
what in  his  appHcation.  He  has  rehitively 
less  to  say  of  Job's  sins,  and  relatively  more 
to  say  of  God's  gracious  purpose.  His  aim 
is  to  justify  God,  rather  than  to  condemn 
Job.  He  has  less  of  dogmatic  hatred,  and 
more  of  intellectual  ambition.  He  wishes  it 
to  be  seen  that  there  are  still  words  for  Eloali, 
that  the  friends  have  not  said  all  that  can  be 
said  for  Him.  His  best  effort  is  made  in  show- 
ing that  a  moral  purj^ose  is  manifest  in  Nature, 
though  the  working  of  God  is  incomprehensi- 
ble. His  appearance  in  the  poem  shows  how 
impossible  it  was  for  Job  to  get,  from  men 
of  his  generation,  the  help  he  needed.  It 
therefore  prepares,  in  a  manner,  for  the  vision 
of  Jehovah,  deepens  our  feeling  of  its  neces- 
sity, and  quickens  the  pulse  of  longing. 

The  claim  that  Elilm  weakens,  and  even 
renders  unnecessary,  the  address  of  the  Lord, 
is  groimdless.  They  who  advance  it  overlook 
the  fact  that  the  very  appearance  of  God  is  of 
the  utmost  significance.  The  impressive  ele- 
ment here  is  not  so  much  what  is  said,  as  who 
says  it.  The  omnipotence  and  omniscience  of 
God  had  already  been  set  forth  by  Job  and  the 


134  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

friends,  as  well  as  by  Eliliii ;  but  tlie  simple 
fact  of  God's  gracious  appearance  is  more  elo- 
quent than  any  mortal  speech.  This  appear- 
ance of  God  for  him  is  the  Divine  witness 
which  Job's  heart  has  craved.  Although  he 
is  humbled  by  the  vision,  and  confesses,  saying : 

"  Behold,  I  am  small !  What  answer  I  thee? 
My  hand  I  do  lay  on  my  mouth. 
I  spake  once,  but  begin  not  again ; 
And  twice,  but  I  do  it  no  more  "; 

and  again,  later,  confesses: 

"  By  hearsay,  of  Thee  I  had  heard, 
But  now  liath  mine  eye  beheld  Thee : 
Therefore  I  recant  and  repent 
In  dust  and  ashes  "; 

while  he  is  humbled,  he  is  calmed,  assured, 
satisfied.  He  is  not  told  why  he  suffers ;  but 
the  development  of  the  theme  b}^  no  means 
requires  this.  He  has  the  assurance  of  God's 
favor,  and  this  is  better  than  the  solution  of 
all  intellectual  difficulties.     He  knows  that 

"  God  stands  within  the  shadow, 
Keej)ing  watch  above  His  own." 

God  does  not  accuse  him  of  sin.  He  does 
not  intimate  that  Job's  sufferings  are  a  pun- 
ishment for  wrong-doing.    He  must  have  done 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  135 

SO,  liad  that  indeed  been  true.  His  silence  on 
this  point  is  eloquent.  It  is  a  vindication  of 
Job's  good  conscience ;  and  now,  more  truly 
than  before,  he  can  "  grapple  God  to  his  soul 
with  hooks  of  steel."  He  can  calmly  leave  to 
Him  the  reason  of  his  sufferings. 

Here  the  poem  proper  ends.  The  theme 
has  received  its  complete  development.  Job 
has  triumphed.  His  character  stands  before 
us,  symmetrically  portrayed.  The  poet  gives 
us,  in  narrative  form,  in  the  Epilogue,  the 
closing  chapter  of  the  hero's  life.  He  re- 
lates what  the  Lord  demanded  of  the  friends, 
namely,  sacrifices  of  burnt-offerings  to  avert 
from  them  the  just  dues  of  their  folly ;  and 
what  he  gave  to  Job,  namely,  material  wealth 
twice  as  great  as  he  had  before  possessed,  fam- 
ily and  friends,  and  many  years  in  which  to 
enjoy  all  these  blessings.  This  rebuke  and  re- 
ward are  anticipated  by  the  reader,  yet  it  is  a 
satisfaction  to  have  them  recorded.  The  fact 
that  Job  prays  for  his  friends'  restoration  to 
God's  favor  is  just  what  we  should  expect  him 
to  do.  Indeed,  we  should  have  been  con- 
fident that  he  did  so,  had  it  not  been  written 
in  the  EpilogTie.  Job  could  not  do  otherwise. 
Yet,  while  this  fact  really  adds  nothing  to  our 


136  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

knowledge  of  tlie  character  of  Job,  it  is  signi- 
ficant, because  it  is  a  last  crushing  refutation 
of  the  msinuation  of  the  Adversary,  that  Job's 
piety  was  selfish,  and  it  is  a  last  eloquent  con- 
firmation of  Jehovah's  words,  "my  servant 
Job,  blameless  and  upright." 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  137 

CHAPTER  11, 
NATURE   IX   THE   POEM   OF   JOB. 

THE  spliere  of  tliis  Hebrew  poem  is,  in  an 
eminent  sense,  the  soul  of  man.  It  deals 
with  the  invisible  rather  than  with  the  visible. 
It  comes  out  of  a  heart  that  is  too  intent  on 
the  mystery  of  human  suffering  to  allow  it  to 
dwell  calmly  on  external  forms  and  phenom- 
ena. Its  hero  is  in  no  mood  to  write  odes  on 
the  sunset,  to  admire  the  grace  of  flowers  and 
the  beauty  of  landscapes.  Within  his  spirit 
there  is  only  darloiess  and  tempest.  Hence 
his  references  to  the  outer  world  are  sombre. 
Yet  the  other  characters  of  the  poem  speak 
not  infrequently  of  Nature,  both  inanimate  and 
animate;  and  these  passages,  though  mainly 
incidental,  are  so  exalted  and  beautiful  that 
they  are  worthy  of  special  study  by  themselves. 
In  the  present  chapter  we  wiU  f oUow  the 
poet  in  his  references  to  inanimate  Nature. 
Inanimate  we  may  say  for  convenience  in 
treating  the  subject,  though  on  the  page  before 
us  everything  breathes.  We  may  notice  first 
the  poet's  reference  to  earthly  objects  and  phe- 
nomena in  the  domam  of  manimate  Nature, 


138  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

then,  in  order,  the  passages  in  which  he  speaks 
of  the  clouds  and  the  stars. 

In  Job's  curse  upon  the  day  of  his  birth  and 
the  night  of  his  conception,  we  have  not  only 
a  reflection  of  his  bewildered  and  desperate 
spirit,  but  also  a  fittmg  introduction  to  the 
poetical  genius  of  the  author.  Here  is  a  power 
of  imagination,  an  intensity  and  picturesque- 
ness  of  utterance,  that  compare  favorably  with 
anything  in  the  poem. 

"  That  day — O  let  it  be  darkness ! 

May  Eldah  not  seek  it  from  heaven, 

And  o'er  it  let  brightness  not  shine ! 

May  darkness  and  gloom  redeem  it, 

Let  a  cloud  make  its  dwelling  upon  it, 

Affright  it  the  dark'nings  of  day ! " 

[Chap.  iii.  4-5.] 

Day  is  a  living  thing  that  can  be  scared  by 
the  darkness.  The  particular  day  of  Job's  birth 
is  given  over  to  the  keeping  of  primeval  gloom  ; 
the  clouds  are  to  brood  over  it ;  eclipses  are  to 
affright  it.  God  should  not  ask  after  this  day 
again,  as  he  is  accustomed  to  seek  out  the 
days  in  their  turn  and  usher  them  in  (xxxviii. 
12-13).  The  days  are  thought  of  as  having  a 
distinct  existence,  and  God  calls  them,  one 
after   the  other,  to  fulfil  their  welcome  mis- 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  139 

sioii.  The  Greek  idea  of  the  Hours  was  quite 
different  from  this.  The  Hours  were  goddesses, 
daughters  of  Zeus  and  Themis.  As  far  as  they 
had  to  do  with  the  divisions  of  time,  their 
office  was  to  preside  over  the  seasons  as  well  as 
over  the  days  ;  but  besides  this  they  cared  for 
the  cloud-gates  of  heaven,  and  performed  man- 
ifold services  for  the  gods.  The  Hebrew  con- 
ception is  simpler  than  this,  and  is  of  course 
free  from  any  tinge  of  polytheism. 

Gomg  back  of  the  day  in  which  he  first  saw 
the  light.  Job  curses  the  night  in  which  his 
being  began. 

''  That  night — let  obscurity  seize  it ! 
In  the  days  of  the  year  let  it  joy  not, 
Nor  come  into  the  number  of  months !  .  .  .  . 
Be  darkened  the  stars  of  its  dawning, 
Let  it  wait  for  the  light,  and  there  be  none. 
And  dawn's  eyelashes  may  it  not  see !  " 

[Chap.  iii.  G-9.] 

Night,  also,  is  a  living  creature  that  rejoices 
among  the  days  of  the  year.  Even  she  has 
her  fellowships  and  her  joys.  We  have  here 
a  suggestion  of  the  poet's  sympathy,  a  hint 
showing  how  natural  it  was  for  him  to  regard 
the  world  about  him  as  instinct  with  harmony 
and  joy.     Day  and  Night  rejoice,  and  rejoice 


140  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

together.  This  picture  of  Night  waiting  for  a 
morning  that  never  comes,  looking  wistfully 
toward  the  eastern  sky  that  never  grows  bright, 
might  be  transferred  to  the  canvas  or  marble. 
It  has  all  the  intensity  and  vividness  of  Dante's 
painting.  The  reference  to  day-break  in  the 
last  line  of  the  passage  just  cited  is  noteworthy. 
Dawn  is  personified,  and  the  first  delicate 
rays  of  light  are  called  his*  eyelashes.  Hence 
the  break  of  day  is  the  appearance  on  the  east- 
ern sky  of  a  radiant,  beneficent  face.  Thus 
Shakespeare  thinks  of  dawn  as  a  beautiful 
woman,  when  he  says  (Romeo  and  Juliet,  iii.  5)  : 

"  Jocund  day 
Stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain  tops." 

Milton  has  the  same  idea  in  Paradise  Lost, 
V.  1-2  : 

"  Now  morn  her  rosy  steps  in  th'  eastern  clime 
Advancing,  sow'd  the  earth  with  orient  pearl." 

And  again  (vi.  2)  : 

"  Morn, 
Waked  by  the  circling  hours,  with  rosy  hand 
Unbarr'd  the  gates  of  light." 

Morn  is  a  fair  woman,  and  the  first  breaking 
of    light  is  her  "rosy  hand,"   an  expression 

*Dawn  is  masculine  in  Hebrew,  not  feminine  as  in  our 
poetry. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  141 

demanded  by  tlie  following  idea,  but  in  itself 
less  true  to  nature  than  Job's  comparison.  We 
should  compare,  also,  Shakespeare's  expression 
(King  John,  v.  2)  : 

<'  The  beauteous  eye  of  day," 
and  the  well-known  lines  (Hamlet,  i.  1)  : 
"  But  look,  the  morn,  in  russet  mantle  clad, 

Walks  o'er  the  dew  of  yon  liigh  eastern  hill." 

Dante  speaks  twice  of  the  morning  as  a  beau- 
tiful woman,  but  less  happily,  I  think,  than 
Job    or    Shakespeare.      In    the    Purgatorio 
(canto  ii.)  he  says  : 
"  The  white  and  the  vermilion  cheeks 
Of  beautiful  Aurora,  where  I  was. 
By  too  great  age  were  changing  into  orange." 
[Longfellow'^ s  Translation.'] 

This  passage  is  faithful  in  the  use  of  colors ; 
but  the  likening  of  the  morning  sky  to  the 
cheeks  of  beautiful  Aurora  does  not  seem  to 
be  so  apt  as  the  figure  of  Job.  There  is  little 
truth  or  beauty  m  comparing  the  morning  sky 
with  the  cheeks  of  Aurora,  for  even  the  fairest 
cheeks  do  not  shine ;  but  the  eye  does  indeed 
shine  as  it  gives  forth  the  radiance  of  the 
spirit.  The  only  remaimng  passage  m  Dante 
that  speaks  of  the  dawn  is  a  modification  of 


142  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

the  same  figure,  but  is  still  more  open  to  criti- 
cism.    It  is  borrowed  in  part  from  tlie  Iliad 
(xi.  1-5)  : 
''  The  concubine  of  old  Tithonus  now 
Gleamed  white  upon  the  eastern  balcony 
Forth  from  the  arms  of  her  sweet  paramour ; 
With  gems  her  forehead  all  relucent  was." 

[Purgatorio,  ix.  1-4.] 

But  the  whole  sky  is  "  relucent "  with  these 
"  gems,"  and  one  part  of  it  may  as  well  be 
termed  the  "  forehead  "  as  another.  Indeed, 
any  other  portion  is  more  "  relucent  "  than  the 
"forehead,"  because  low  do^vn  on  the  eastern 
sky  the  "  gems  "  are  lost  in  the  brightness  of 
the  morning. 

It  is  in  place  to  consider  here  the  reference 
to  morning  which  is  made  in  the  ode  of  the 
Almighty  (xxxviii.  12-14)  : 

"  Hast  thou  ever  commanded  a  morning  ? 
Hast  shown  to  a  dawning  its  place, 
To  lay  hold  of  the  corners  of  earth, 
That  thence  may  be  shaken  the  wicked  ? 
It  [the  earth]  changes  as  signet-clay. 
So  that  things  appear  as  a  garment." 

Night  spreads  a  blanket  over  the  earth.  Morn 
comes,  and,  seizing  the  corners  of  this  vast 
blanket,  lifts  it,  and  shakes  the  wicked  out  of 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  14 3 

its  thick  folds.  Earth,  smitten  by  the  dawn, 
is  transfigured.  What  but  a  moment  ago  was 
formless  clay  shows  now  a  clear  and  divine 
impress.  The  mountains  and  hills  and  val- 
leys stand  forth  with  sharply-cut  outlines — the 
beauteous  garment  of  the  earth. 

Shakespeare  twice  employs  the  first  of  the 
figures  used  in  this  passage.  He  says  of  the 
sun  (King  Richard  II.,  iii.  2)  : 

"  When  from  under  this  terrestrial  ball 
He  fires  the  proud  tops  of  the  eastern  pines, 
And  darts  his  light  through  every  guilty  hole  : 
Then  murders,  treasons,  and  detested  sins, 
The  cloak  of  night  being  plucked  from  off  their 

backs. 
Stand  bare  and  naked,  trembling  at  themselves.'* 

And  again  he  uses  the  same  figure  (Mac- 
beth, i.  5)  : 

"  Nor  heaven  peeps  through  the  blanket  of  the  dark 
To  cry  '  Hold,  hold  ! '  " 

The  poets  whom  we  have  cited  generally 
have  in  their  allusions  to  morning  the  element 
of  color.  That  this  is  wanting  in  Job's  refer- 
ences to  dawn  is  not  especially  significant, 
since  these  are  but  two  in  number  and  are 
brief  ;  but  we  look  in  vain  for  color  elsewhere 
in  the  poem.    It  has  no  rosy  dawn,  nor  golden 


144  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

sunset,  nor  briglitly-colored  flowers.  It  em- 
ploys several  words  for  blackness  or  dai'kness, 
as  that  which  is  gloomy  and  forbidding,  but  it 
uses  these  without  distinction  of  shades. 

When  we  recall  the  use  of  color  in  Homer, 
Dante,  and  Shakespeare,  the  entire  absence  of 
it  in  the  poem  before  us  is  striking,  especially 
since  it  has  much  to  do  with  Nature.  The 
abundance  of  color  in  Homer  may  be  seen 
from  the  following  illustrations :  Apollo  is 
the  son  of  the  golden-haired  Latona ;  Here  is 
the  goddess  with  the  white  shoulders,  white 
arms,  and  dark  brows ;  Pallas  is  blue-eyed ; 
Dawn  is  rosy-fingered,  and  clad  in  saffron 
robes  ;  Achilles  has  yellow  hair.  Further,  we 
learn  that  Homer's  galleys  are  black,  with 
scarlet  prows  and  white  sails ;  his  sea  is  dark 
blue,  or  pale  green,  or  gray ;  and  the  clouds 
which  form  a  canopy  over  Mars  upon  Olym- 
pus are  golden.*  Dante  has  notably  less  color 
than  Homer,  less  even  than  Shakespeare ;  yet 
his  poem  furnishes  us  with  numerous  examples 
of  its  use. 

Concerning  the  absence  of  color  in  Job,  we 

*lliad,  i.  36 ;  i.  754  ;  i.  572  ;  xv.  102  ;  vii.  30 ;  i.  477  ;  viii.  1 ; 
i.  197  ;  i.  197  ;  i.  141 ;  ii.  637 ;  i.  480 ;  ii.  613  ;  xvi.  34 ;  i.  359  ; 
xiii.  523. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  145 

may  observe  tliat  liis  theme  is  dark,  a  theme 
of  suffering  and  mystery.  Joy  and  gladness 
give  color ;  grief  puts  on  dark  robes.  But  it 
may  also  be  remarked  that  color  in  poetry  is  a 
matter  of  subordinate  value.  An  eminent  art- 
critic  of  the  present  day  says :  "  Color,  even 
as  a  source  of  pleasure,  is  much  feebler  than 
form."  A  landscape  may  have  little  or  no 
color  beneath  the  light  of  the  stars,  and  yet  its 
mountains  do  not  lose  their  character.  Their 
outlines  and  mass  are  the  same.  Their  un- 
changing strength  and  grandeur  still  imjiress 
us,  and,  it  may  be,  more  deeply  than  when  the 
color-giving  sun  is  upon  them. 

We  have  spoken  of  Job's  morning,  and  in 
its  light  we  may  now  go  forth  with  the  poet 
and  look  again  upon  those  objects  and  phenom- 
ena of  the  natural  world  to  which  he  refers, 
and  listen  to  his  lines.  He  speaks  of  the  flow- 
ers beneath  our  feet,  and  of  the  shadows  that 
flit  over  the  fields,  using  them  to  illustrate  a 
truth  for  which  no  apter  illustration  was  ever 
found.     Man,  he  says, 

"  Comes  forth  as  a  flower,  and  withers ; 
Like  a  shadow  he  fleeth  and  stays  not." 

It  is  Job  m  the  midst  of  his  suffermg  and 

10 


146  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

mystery  who  is  siDeaking  (xiv.  2).  His  life 
has  been  suddenly  blighted,  and  death  is  just 
before  him.  His  eye  finds  out  that  in  Nature 
which  expresses  the  feeling  of  his  heart.  The 
flower  withers,  though  seemmg  to  deserve  a 
better  fate.  Its  brightness  and  fragrance  en- 
dure but  a  moment.  And  man  "  fleeth  as  a 
shadow,"  swiftly,  and  leaving  no  track  behind. 
The  grass  and  leaves  o'er  which  it  j^asses  are 
the  same  as  before. 

One  of  our  poets  of  Nature  re-echoes  the 
thought  of  Job  when  he  says  of  the  transient- 
ness  of  life : 

"  As  shadows  formed  by  cloud  and  sun 

Flit  o'er  the  summer  grass ; 
So  in  thy  sight,  Almighty  One, 

Earth's  generations  pass." 

The  frequency  with  which  these  figures  have 
been  used  has  perhaps  made  us  indifferent  to 
their  perfect  propriety  and  beauty.  Bishop 
Lowth  said  of  the  first  part  of  Chap,  xiv.,  in- 
cludmg  these  verses :  "  In  genere  elegiaco  i^er- 
fectissimiLS.''^ 

Of  the  two  allusions  to  the  grain-field,  one 
is  specially  noticeable.  Eliphaz  is  picturing 
the  future  bliss  of  Job,  if  he  receives  humbly 
the  chastening  of  the  Almighty ;  and  he  can 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  147 

think  of  no  more  beautiful  way  in  which  to 
speak  of  the  evening  of  the  patriarch's  Hfe 
than  in  these  words : 

"  Thou  shalt  come  to  thy  grave  in  strength, 

As  a  sheaf  goeth  uj)  in  its  time." 

[Chap.  V.  26.] 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  a  more  fitting- 
simile  could  have  been  drawn  from  the  entire 
realm  of  Nature  in  which  to  clothe  his  thought. 
Heavy  golden  grain,  ready  for  the  garner, — 
such  shall  Job  be.  His  mission  accomplished, 
character  ripened,  virtue  won  ; — so  shall  it  be 
when  the  reaper  Death,  "  with  his  sickle  keen," 
shall  one  day  come  to  Job. 

There  is  another  illustration  drawn  from 
the  vegetable  kingdom,  which  is  exquisitely 
chosen.  Job  complams  of  God's  treatment, 
and  says : 

"  The  wind-tossed  leaf  wilt  Thou  scare, 

And  chase  the  dry  stubble  away  ?  " 

[Chajy.  xiii.  25.] 

These  are  among  the  boldest  personifications 
to  be  found  in  the  entire  poem.  A  wind- 
tossed  leaf  can  be  "  scared,"  and  that  which 
seems  more  dead  even  than  a  fallen  leaf, 
namely,  the  stubble,  is  alive  and  can  be  chased 
away.     And  what  could  better  represent  the 


148  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

utterly  helpless,  hopeless,  and  mysterious  con- 
dition of  the  afflicted  Job  than  an  autumn  leaf 
and  the  dry  stubble,  driven  hither  and  thither 
by  the  invisible  wind  ?  Dante  likens  the  lost 
spirits  whom  Charon  ferries  over  the  Acheron 
to  dead  leaves  {Inferno^  iii.  112-115).  Noth- 
ing is  more  hopeless  than  these. 

We  notice  in  the  next  place  the  poet's  re- 
markable words  on  the  sea,  of  which  Herder 
said :  "  I  do  not  believe  that  a  more  magnifi- 
cent picture  of  this  element  was  ever  given." 

"  Who  shut  up  the  sea  with  doors, 
When  it  burst  through,  came  forth  from  the 

womb ; 
When  I  made  a  cloud  its  garment, 
And  darkness  its  swaddUng  bands  ; 
And  broke  up  against  it  my  bound, 
And  appointed  a  bar  and  doors  ; 
And  said,  Thus  far  may'st  thou  come,  but  no 

further, 

And   here  be  a  bound  for  the  jiride  of  thy 

waves !  " 

[Chai^.  xxxviii.  8-11.] 

The  sea  is  a  living  creature.  It  was  born  away 
back  in  the  flight  of  time,  and  in  its  infancy  it 
was  swathed  in  clouds  and  darkness  by  the 
hand  of  the  Almighty.     It  dwells  in  a  house 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  149 

that  He  made  for  it,  a  house  whose  bars  and 
doors  are  the  enduring  rocks  and  the  everlast- 
ing hills.  Strong  and  proud  though  it  be,  it 
cannot  overstep  the  bounds  which  He  set  for 
it.  The  poet  here  seizes  on  the  leading  char- 
acteristic of  the  ocean  —  namely,  its  might  — 
and  gives  that  the  most  worthy  expression. 
Whether  one  stand  upon  the  shore  of  the  sea 
and  watch  the  billows  as  they  roll  majestically 
landward,  breaking  with  a  loud  roar  against 
some  rocky  cliff;  or  whether  one  be  on  the 
bosom  of  the  main,  and  notice  how  the  great 
ship  is  tossed  about  as  a  plaything  by  the 
waves :  the  deepest  impression  that  one  re- 
ceives is  the  impression  of  measureless  strength. 
This  is  portrayed  in  the  passage  before  us.  It 
was  necessary  to  shut  up  the  sea  as  soon  as 
it  was  born,  necessary  to  break  up  against  it 
a  divme  limit  and  restrain  it  with  bars  and 
doors.  It  was  needful,  and  is  evermore  needful, 
that  the  Almighty  liimseK  should  say  unto  it, 
"Thus  far  and  no  further  !  "  This  is  the  sea 
which  the  poet  has  sketched ;  this  the  sea  as 
God  made  it. 

The  poet's  references  to  the  wind  are  in- 
structive examples  of  his  treatment  of  Nature. 


150  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

By  a  bold  metaphor  he  speaks  of  the  wind 
twice  as  the  "  breath  of  God "  (xxvi.  13 ; 
xxxvii.  10)  : 

"  By  the  breath  of  God  there  is  ice  "; 
and  again, 

"  By  His  breath  are  the  heavens  made  bright." 

That  invisible  and  mysterious  force  before 
which  the  dark  clouds  move  silently  away  and 
reveal  the  blue  sky,  that  is  the  breath  of  the 
Lord !  God  is  very  near  in  the  world  of  the 
Hebrew  poet.  For  him  Nature  is  not  a 
web  woven  by  the  earth-spirit,  as  in  Goethe's 
"Faust,"  but  it  is  the  work  of  God's  own 
hands ;  it  is  not  the  "  living  garment "  of 
Deity,  but  an  ever-fresh  manifestation  of  His 
wisdom  and  power.  At  another  time,  when 
Job  is  complaining  m  the  bitterness  of  his 
soul,  he  represents  the  wind  as  a  courser ; 
"  Thou  dost  mount  me  on  wind,  mak'st  me  ride, 
And  dost  let  me  dissolve  into  storm." 

[Chap.  XXX.  22.] 

It  is  possible  that  Milton  had  this  passage  in 
mind  when  he  wrote  of  the  spirits  ^Paradise 
Lost,  ii.  539-40)  : 

"  Others  ride  the  air  in  whirlwind." 

The  most  remarkable  use  of  this  figure  is 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  151 

found  ill  Shakespeare  (Macbeth,  i.  7).     The 
thought  of  Duncan's  innocence  leads  Macbeth 
to  say  of  his  own  foul  purpose : 
"  Pity,  like  a  naked  new-born  babe, 
Striding  the  blast,  or  heaven's  cherubim  hors'd 
Upon  the  sightless  couriers  of  the  air. 
Shall  blow  the  horrid  deed  in  every  eye. 
That  tears  shall  drown  the  wind." 

Yet  this  passage  has  not  the  intensity  we  find 
in  its  parallel,  the  Hebrew  poem ;  for  there  it 
is  Job  himself  who  bestrides  the  blast.  He 
does  not  see  "  Pity  "  or  "  heaven's  cherubim  " 
upon  the  "sightless  couriers  of  the  air";  he 
sees  himself  there.  This  gives  us  a  deep  per- 
sonal interest  in  the  figure,  which  we  do  not 
feel  for  pity  or  the  immortal  cherubim.  We 
may  observe  here,  what  is  equally  noticeable 
elsewhere,  that  no  poet  paints  so  vividly  and 
tersely  as  Job,  unless  it  be  Dante. 

The  clouds  of  Job,  to  which  we  now  turn, 
occupy  a  relatively  large  place  in  the  poem ; 
but  they  are  always  characteristically  treat- 
ed. We  find,  in  the  first  place,  a  clear  recog- 
nition of  the  mysteriousness  of  clouds.  How 
are  they  poised  in  the  sky  ?  Why  do  they 
not   sink  to  the   earth  ?      The   young    Elihu 


152  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

is  represented    as  asking  Job  this  question : 
"  Dost  thou  know  of  the  poisings  of  clouds, 
Great  tilings  of  One  perfect  in  knowledge  ?  " 

[Chap,  xxxvii.  10.] 

"  One  perfect  in  knowledge  "  would  know  how 
those  fleecy  clouds  hang  there  in  the  cahn  sum- 
mer sky,  not  one  settling  earthward,  not  one 
tottering  as  though  the  invisible  hands  of  the 
air  were  no  longer  able  to  sustain  its  weight ; 
but  this  question  was  too  high  for  Elihu.  Job 
refers  to  the  same  mystery  in  his  reply  to  Bil- 
dad  (xxvi.  8).  It  is  a  standing  miracle  in  his 
eyes  that  the  thick  clouds  are  not  broken  be- 
neath their  weight  of  waters. 

Again,  the  poet  sees  the  divine  ministry  of 
the   clouds.     They  are    not   merely  beautiful 
objects,  tempting  the  eye  upward  to  their  ever- 
changing  forms  and  manifold  colorings ;  they 
are  also  celestial  messengers.    They  come  forth 
on  errands  of  mercy  or  wrath. 
"  Yea,  richly  He  loadeth  the  cloud, 
Disperseth  the  cloud  of  His  light ; 
And  it  turneth  itself  about  by  His  steering, 
To  do  whate'er  He  commands  it 
On  the  face  of  th'  inhabited  earth, — 
If  as  a  rod,  when  His  earth  needs  that, 
Or  as  mercy,  He  cause  it  to  come." 

[Chap,  xxxvii.  11-13.] 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  153 

That  swift  storm-cloud  is  a  "  rod "  of  tlie 
Lord.  In  its  track  tlie  green  meadows  are 
changed  into  sandy  wastes,  and  the  grain  is 
j)rostrated  to  the  earth.  But  those  silent 
clouds  that  came  out  of  the  east  before  the  sun 
was  up,  and  took  their  way  over  the  land,  were 
God's  messengers  of  mercy  ;  for  they  satisfied 
the  thirsty  earth,  and  gave  new  freshness  to 
leaf  and  flower. 

The  reverent  and  simple  way  in  which  the 
Hebrew  poet  regarded  Nature  is  further  illus- 
trated in  these  lines : 

"  Yea,  knows  one  the  unf oldings  of  clouds, 
The  great  crash  of  His  tent  ?  " 

[Chap,  xxxvi.  29.] 

The  dark  thunder-cloud  which  Elihu  sees 
approaching  is  a  "tent"  of  the  Almighty. 
A  childlike  yet  sublime  conception.  Yonder 
comes  the  threatening  cloud,  impenetrable  to 
human  vision,  majestic  in  its  mountainous  pro- 
portions and  in  its  steady  onward  sweep. 
There  is  a  mysterious  power  within  it,  which 
ever  and  anon  lights  up  its  caverns  and  tower- 
ing summits  with  a  marvellous  light,  and 
straightway  its  depths  are  shaken  by  a  voice 
that  reaches  to  the  distant  hills,  and  is  sent 
back   by  them  in  long,  heavy  reverberations. 


154  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Now  its  dark  folds  are  thrown  around  the 
summit  of  yon  high  hill,  as  once  the  cloud 
enwrapped  the  rocky  crest  of  Sinai ;  and  now 
descending  along  the  valley,  its  lowest  drapery, 
like  streaming  pennons  that  have  been  shredded 
by  rude  blasts,  almost  touches  the  earth.  Out 
of  its  dark  depths  comes  "  the  great  rain  of 
His  might."  As  the  cloud  passes  by,  and  re- 
cedes further  and  further  from  us,  we  see  that 
its  upper  parts  are  glistening  white.  This  is 
the  tent  of  the  Lord ! 

It  is  our  loss  that  we  have  magnified  natural 
law  to  the  exclusion,  as  it  were,  of  the  Creator. 
In  pondering  one  truth  we  have  lost  sight  of 
the  other.  The  Hebrew  conception  of  Nature 
is  as  true  to-day  as  it  ever  was.  A  storm- 
cloud  is  still  a  tent  of  the  Almighty ;  the  wind. 
His  breath.  But  our  feeling  does  not  keep 
pace  with  our  understanding.  It  may  not  be 
as  easy  to  see  God's  hand  in  the  objects  and 
phenomena  of  Nature  now  that  forces  and  laws 
are  better  understood  ;  but  it  is  none  the  less 
true  that  His  hand  is  there,  because  we  have 
learned  a  little  about  laws  and  forces.  These 
only  show  how  He  is  present. 

On  the  heaven  above  the  transient  clouds, 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  155 

the  heaven  of  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  the 
author  of  Job  seems  often  to  have  meditated  ; 
and  his  allusions  to  the  celestial  bodies  are  full 
of  the  simple  beauty  and  sublimity  that  char- 
acterizes his  entire  treatment  of  Nature.  The 
correct  and  appreciative  eye  appears  in  the  use 
he  makes  of  the  stars  and  sky  as  symbols  of 
the  most  perfect  purity.    So  Eliphaz  (xv.  15)  : 

"  Behold,  in  His  pure  ones  Ho  trusts  not, 
And  the  heavens  are  not  clean  in  his  eyes." 

Bildad  also  has  the  same  thought  (xxv.  5)  : 

"  Lo,  even  the  moon  shines  not  brightly, 
And  the  stars  are  not  clean  in  His  eyes." 

The  argument  requires  that  the  poet  should 
choose  the  purest  object  in  all  the  world,  and  he 
has  done  it.  Our  eyes  never  look  on  aught  in 
Nature  that  seems  so  absolutely  pure  as  the 
unclouded  sky  and  the  stars.  This  impression 
may  be  deepened  by  the  fact  that  sky  and  stars 
are  so  far  above  us — so  far  above  the  dust  and 
uncleanness  of  earth,  far  above  the  clouds  even, 
which  darken  our  day.  All  that  is  about  us 
seems  to  partake  m  some  degree  of  earthly  de- 
filement, and  we  involuntarily  locate  absolute 
purity  far  from  us,  far  above  us.  Then,  too, 
we  may  instinctively  associate  with  the  visible 


156  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

heavens  the  immaculateness  of  that  invisible 
and  spiritual  world  which  we  locate  yonder 
among  the  stars  ;  but  however  this  may  be,  it 
is  certainly  true  that  the  natural  objects  which 
the  Hebrew  poet  took  to  symbolize  purity  are 
the  purest  symbols  that  one  can  find. 

The  chief  star-passages  of  the  poem  are  con- 
tamed  in  the  ode  of  Jehovah.  When  He  speaks 
of  founding  the  earth,  He  says  (xxxviii.  6-7)  : 

"  On  what  were  its  pedestals  sunk, 
Or  the  stone  of  its  corner  who  laid, 
"When  the  stars  of  the  dawn  sang  together, 
And  shouted  all  children  of  God  ?  " 

These  familiar  lines  tell  of  that  serene  and 
perfect  bliss  which  pervaded  God's  creatures 
on  the  fair  morning  of  creation.  From  every 
star  and  angel  arose  a  rapturous  song  of  ador- 
ation and  joy,  that  filled  the  sky  with  celestial 
harmony. 

It  may  seem  like  an  echo  of  the  last  two 
lines,  when  we  read  in  Dante  what  he  says  of 
Fortune : 

"  Among  the  other  primal  creatures  gladsome 
She  turns  her  sphere,  and  blissful  she  rejoices." 

[Inferno,  vii.  95-96.] 

The  passage  in  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice  " 
(v.  1)  may  owe  its  inspiration  to  the  Imes  in 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  157 

Job ;  but  it  does  not  equal  their  picture  of  un- 
clouded joy,  nor  has  it  their  simplicity.  Lor- 
enzo says  to  Jessica : 

"  Look  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold ; 
There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubins." 

In  the  Hebrew  poem  the  stars  sing  like 
stars  ;  the  character  of  the  melody  is  left  to  the 
imagination.  Then  the  joyousness  of  the  He- 
brew scene  is  greater  than  that  of  the  Shake- 
spearean, for  both  the  stars  and  the  angels  are 
singmg.  Shakespeare's  cherubins  listen  while 
the  stars  quire  to  them.  Were  they  as  happy 
as  the  children  of  God,  they  could  not  help 
singmg.  Milton  has  a  passage  in  which  the 
singing  of  the  stars  seems  to  be  understood  as 
rhythmical  motion. 

"  They  as  they  move 

Their  starry  dance,  in  numbers  that  compute 

Days,  months,  and  years." 

[Paradise  Lost,  iii.  579-81.] 

The  difference  between  these  lines  and  the 
simple  majesty  of  the  Hebrew  is  easily  felt. 
There  is  little  of  truth  or  fitness  in  the  com. 
parison  of  Milton  :  little  truth,  for  the  dance 


158  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

certainly  emphasizes  motion,  but  the  stars  do 
not  move  appreciably  ;  and  little  fitness,  for  a 
dance,  even  though  performed  by  King  David 
before  the  Ark  of  the  Lord,  is  still  infinitely 
below  the  dignity  of  the  celestial  spheres,  mov- 
ing with  noiseless  precision  through  uncounted 
centuries.  The  sublime  poetry  of  the  stars  is 
lost  when  they  are  made  to  "  dance,"  and  when 
they  are  looked  upon  as  an  almanac,  good  to 
"  compute  days,  months,  and  years." 

The  remaining  passage  on  the  stars  is  an 
interrogation  of  the  Almighty. 

"  Canst  thou  bind  fast  the  Pleiades'  bands, 
Or  loosen  the  cords  of  Orion  ? 
Bring  forth  at  their  time  the  Stations, 
And  the  Bear  with  her  young  canst  thou  lead  ?  " 

[Chap,  xxxviii,  31-32.] 

These  constellations  are  with  one  exception 
the  same  that  Vulcan,  "  the  great  artist," 
wrought  upon  the  disk  of  the  massy  shield 
which  Thetis  had  begged  for  her  son  Achilles. 
After  he  had  wrought  the  earth  and  heaven, 
the  great  deep  and  the  never-resting  sun  and 
the  full  moon,  he  set  the  stars  that  shme  in  the 
round  sky,  "The  Pleiades  and  Hyades,  the 
mighty  Orion  and  the  Bear,  called  also  the 
Wain,  which  turns  about  m  the  same  place, 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  15 9 

observing  Orion,  yet  never  bathes  in  the  ocean" 
(Iliad,  xviii.  486-89).  The  Hebrew  poet  does 
not  use  the  stars  as  ornaments ;  but  employs 
them  to  teach  the  littleness  and  feebleness  of 
man,  and  the  wisdom  and  power  of  God. 
Jehovah  is  the  speaker.  He  can  bind,  or 
rather  has  bound,  the  band  of  the  Pleiades,  so 
that  from  age  to  age  they  journey  together, 
not  one  straying  away  from  the  rest ;  He  fas- 
tened the  cords  which  hold  the  giant  Orion 
firmly  in  his  place  ;  He  leads  the  Bear  and  her 
young  through  their  vast  circles.  Here,  as 
elscAvhere,  the  poet  introduces  Nature,  not  for 
what  it  is  in  itseK,  but  as  an  object-lesson  of 
the  Infinite,  "  the  vicar  of  the  almightie  Lord." 
The  stars  and  the  clouds  and  the  flowers  serve 
as  the  setting  of  some  great  thought. 


160  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 


CHAPTEB  III. 

THE  ANIMAL  KINGDOM  IN  THE  POEM 
OF  JOB. 

IT  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that  the  poem  of  Job, 
while  profoundly  religious  and  occupied 
with  the  deep  problem  of  God's  moral  govern- 
ment, has  much  to  say  about  the  beasts  of  the 
field  and  the  fowl  of  the  sky.  Homer,  Dante, 
and  Shakespeare  together  have  scarcely  as 
many  pictures  out  of  the  animal  world  as  has 
this  one  Hebrew  production.  The  relative  pre- 
dominance in  Job  of  descriptions  from  the  an- 
nual kmgdom,  and  the  unsurpassed  excellence 
of  these  descrijitions,  are  indications  of  a  deep 
and  lively  sympathy  with  Nature,  and  also  of 
a  childlike  conception  of  the  relation  between 
Nature  and  God. 

Of  the  propriety  of  introducing  into  serious 
poetry  long  descriptions  from  the  animal  world 
there  can  scarcely  be  any  doubt,  since  the 
composition  of  Job.  It  has  here  been  demon- 
strated with  conclusive  force  that  the  animal 
kingdom  is  not  beneath  the  consideration  of 
subhme  poetry.  This  kingdom  has  numerous 
representatives  m  one  of  the  greatest  produc- 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  161 

tions  of  tlie  human  mind,  and  they  are  not 
there  to  fill  up  a  gap ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
appear  m  the  finest  portions  of  the  poem. 
Their  right  has  therefore  been  abundantly  vin- 
dicated to  a  place  m  the  loftier  spheres  of  se- 
rious poetry. 

But,  granted  that  the  animal  kingdom  can 
afford  appropriate  material  for  the  serious 
poet,  is  it  fitting  that  the  Lord  himself  should 
be  represented  as  the  poet,  describing  the  folly 
of  the  ostrich  and  the  structure  of  the  croco- 
dile ?  Is  it  not  out  of  keeping  with  the  dig- 
nity of  Him  whom  the  heaven  of  heavens  can- 
not contain,  when  a  poet  ascribes  to  him  a 
delineation  of  the  wild  ass  or  of  the  repulsive 
hippopotamus?  Is  not  this  in  violation  of 
good  taste  ?  If  so,  then  a  poet  who  has  given 
us  the  sublimest  conceptions  of  the  majesty, 
wisdom,  and  power  of  the  Almighty,  a  poet 
who  elsewhere  manifests  deep  reverence  and 
great  humility  in  his  references  to  God,  has 
overstepped  the  limits  of  good  taste.  This 
wiU  not  be  regarded  as  probable.  The  simple 
fact,  therefore,  that  the  very  poet  who  repre- 
sents Jehovah  as  describing  the  war-horse,  also 
abounds  in  the  loftiest  conceptions  of  «Tehovah 
ever  voiced  in  human  language,  will  go  far 
11 


162  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

toward  sliielding  the  practice  in  question  from 
the  shafts  of  hostile  criticism.  The  judgment 
of  such  a  poet  is  worthy  of  a  good  deal  of  con- 
sideration. But,  further,  it  seems  legitimate 
to  say  that  if  it  appeared  good  unto  the  Lord 
to  impart  to  the  wild  ass  and  the  aurochs  an 
untamable  spirit,  to  give  the  hawk  an  unerring 
mstinct  to  guide  it  in  its  long  migrations,  to 
give  the  eagle's  eye  an  unexampled  power  of 
vision,  and  the  rock-goat  an  unconquerable 
shyness,  it  cannot  be  improper  for  Him  to 
refer  to  these  characteristics.  Why  should  it 
be  thought  beneath  the  dignity  of  Him  who 
created  the  crocodile  to  represent  Him  as  de- 
scribing his  own  handiwork  ? 

Assuming,  now,  that  this  liberty  of  the  He- 
brew poet  needs  no  further  justification,  it  may 
be  asked,  in  the  next  place,  what  are  the  prm- 
cipal  demands  that  can  rightfully  be  made 
upon  the  serious  poet  who  speaks  of  the  ani- 
mal kingdom? 

First,  it  seems  reasonable  to  demand  that 
he  shall  tell  the  truth.  What  we  demand  of 
the  serious  poet  elsewhere,  we  expect  here  also. 
True  poetry  is  always  truthful  poetr3^  Imagin- 
ation does  not  imply  falsity.  Ideal  persons  and 
relations  are  not  necessarily  impossible.     The 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  163 

imagination  of  tlie  true  i:)oet  works  along  the 
lines  of  trutli.  If  lie  ventures  to  speak  of 
beast  or  bird,  lie  recognizes  as  far  as  possible 
the  nature  which  God  has  given  them.  He 
does  not  ascribe  the  dove's  nature  to  the  hawk 
any  more  than  the  dove's  plumage.  He  does 
not  create  new  orders  of  animals,  nor  demoral- 
ize the  orders  already  existing.  If  he  is  wander- 
ing in  mythological  forests,  we  expect  that  he 
wiU  meet  with  mythological  beings ;  but  we 
ask  that  the  creatures  which  he  finds  in  the 
actual  forests  of  earth  and  about  the  habita- 
tions of  man  shall  be  real,  not  mythological. 
His  horse  must  be  a  horse,  not  a  centaur.  It 
cannot  be  allowed  to  possess  human  reason 
any  more  than  a  human  head.  It  must  have 
equine  qualities  as  well  as  equine  proportions. 
The  eagle  must  be  an  eagle,  not  a  hawk  or  a 
phoenix.  And  in  so  far  as  the  poet  describes 
beast  or  bird,  he  must  tell  the  truth.  He  will 
tell  it  in  a  very  different  way  from  the  orni- 
thologist and  zoologist ;  but  nevertheless  it 
will  be  the  truth  which  he  communicates. 

Secondly,  we  certainly  have  a  right  to  de- 
mand that  the  serious  poet  who  would  describe 
any  member  of  the  animal  kingdom  shall  give 
us  truth  that  is  poetically  important.     His  de- 


164  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

scription  of  a  war-liorse  is  very  unsatisfactory 
if  he  talks  of  mere  color  and  shape  instead  of 
character ;  if  he  simply  calls  attention  to 
his  "round  hoofs,  short  joints,  long  fetlocks, 
broad  breast,  full  eyes,  small  head,  wide  nos- 
tril, high  crest,  short  ears,  straight  legs,  thin 
mane,  thick  tail,  tender  hide  ";  and  does  not 
the  rather  portray  his  nature  and  capacities. 
All  these  items  may  be  true,  and  may  be  im- 
portant in  a  way ;  but  taken  by  themselves 
they  are  not  poetically  important. 

But  we  can  demand,  m  the  third  place,  that 
the  poet  shall  not  describe  for  the  sake  of  de- 
scribing ;  but  shall  make  his  picture  a  poetical 
means  to  some  truly  poetical  and  worthy  end. 
Doubtless  a  mere  word-painting  of  a  lion  or  an 
eagle,  which  seeks  nothing  beyond  itself,  may 
please  the  fancy  of  a  moment,  and  afford  a 
sort  of  literary  pleasure  entirely  apart  from  the 
object  described ;  but  as  poetry,  it  is  not  worth 
the  time  spent  on  it.  A  literary  photograph 
of  beast  or  bird,  however  ingeniously  and  hap- 
pily constructed,  scarcely  deserves  the  name  of 
poetry.  A  poet  of  Nature  must  be  something 
more  than  a  sensitive  plate.  This  is  good  m 
its  place,  but  its  product  is  not  a  poem,  else 
were  the  photographer  the  best  poet.     Poetry 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  165 

is  always,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  a  product 
of  tlie  imagination ;  but  a  literary  photograph 
is  not  such  a  product.  The  poet  of  Nature 
must  do  something  more  than  cast  upon  the 
mind  such  an  image  as  the  object  described 
casts  upon  the  retina  of  the  eye.  He  must 
see,  and  make  us  see,  something  that  is  con- 
cealed from  the  physical  vision.  He  must  be 
a  projihet — that  is,  a  forth-teller — of  the  se- 
crets of  Nature. 

We  pass  from  these  preliminary  remarks  to 
a  consideration  of  the  poem  of  Job  in  its  ref- 
erences to  the  animal  kingdom.  Before  tak- 
ing up  the  longer  descriptions  of  beasts  and 
birds,  we  may  just  glance  at  the  numerous 
allusions  to  them  m  which  the  poem  abounds. 
The  moth  and  the  house  of  the  moth  are  sym- 
bols of  extreme  fragility  and  transientness  (see 
iv.  18-19 ;  xx\ai.  18)  ;  the  hope  of  the  wicked 
is  a  spider's  house  (vii.  14)  ;  the  adder's  poi- 
son and  viper's  tongue  stand  for  the  fatal  con- 
sequences of  cherished  sin  (xx.  16)  ;  the  eagle 
swooping  down  on  its  prey  represents  the 
swiftness  with  which  the  days  pass  (ix.  26)  ; 
the  phoenix  dying  in  its  nest  is  the  picture  in 
Job's  mind  of  his  own  end  (xxix.  18)  ;  and 
the  wailing  ostrich  is  the  emblem  of  Job  in  his 


166  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

affliction  (xxx.  29).  These  comparisons  are 
all  eminently  appropriate.  The  same  cannot 
always  be  said  of  Homer's  allusions  to  the  an- 
imal world.  His  comparisons,  though  meant 
seriously,  sometimes  provoke  a  smile,  and  some- 
times belittle  his  Greek  and  Trojan  heroes. 
For  instance,  he  likens  the  grave  Trojan  no- 
bles, who,  sittmg  on  the  towers  of  the  city,  are 
taking  counsel,  to  locusts  chirping  in  the  tree- 
tops  {Iliad.,  iii.  146-153)  ;  Ulysses  is  hkened 
to  a  thick-fleeced  ram  (iii.  197-198)  ;  Aga- 
memnon is  like  a  bull  amid  the  horned  herd 
(ii.  580)  ;  and  the  long-haired  Greeks,  throng- 
ing the  plain  in  multitudes,  are  like  the  flies 
that  swarm  in  the  herdsman's  stalls  in  spring- 
time, when  new  milk  has  filled  the  pails  (ii. 
469-477).  Dante  seldom  draws  comparisons 
from  the  animal  world,  but  those  which  he  has 
are  of  exquisite  propriety  and  beauty  {Inferno^ 
ix.  76-81 ;  Paradiso,  v.  100-105). 

We  turn  now  to  that  series  of  twelve  de- 
scriptions which  we  find  in  the  discourse  of 
Jehovah, — descriptions  of  the  lion,  the  raven, 
the  rock-goat,  the  hind,  the  wild  ass,  the  au- 
rochs, the  ostrich,  the  charger,  the  hawk,  the 
eagle,  the  hippopotamus,  and  the  crocodile. 
The  references  to  the  lion  and  raven,  the  hawk 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  167 

and  eagle,  are  brief  sketches,  and  the  rock- 
goat  and  hind  are  mentioned  together.  The 
poet  says  of  the  lion  : 

"  Canst  thou  hunt  for  the  lioness  prey, 
And  the  young  lions'  appetite  sate, 
When  they  crouch  in  their  lurking-places, 
When  they  lie  in  wait  in  the  lair  ?  " 

[Chajy.  xxxviii.  39-40.] 

As  far  as  this  picture  of  the  lion-family  ex- 
tends, it  makes  us  acquainted  with  the  leonine 
nature  ;  it  is  a  character-sketch.  The  stealth- 
iness  of  the  lion  appears  in  his  "  crouching  " 
and  "lying  in  wait";  and  his  carnivorous  na- 
ture also  is  given  in  the  same  figure.  The 
ferocity  of  lions  is  implied  in  the  question, 
"  Canst  thou  hunt,"  etc.  Were  Job  to  attempt 
to  feed  the  lioness  and  her  young,  he  would  be 
devoured  forthwith.  The  lion  is  a  favorite  with 
Homer,  and  his  sketches,  like  this  in  Job,  are 
mainly  of  the  leonine  nature.  He  notes  the 
stealth  and  ferocity,  the  strength  and  carniv- 
orous character,  of  the  lion.  (See  Iliad ^ 
V.  554-559;  xi.  172-176.) 

The  allusion  to  the  raven  is  not  descriptive, 
but  simply  has  a  bearing  on  the  argument 
(xxxviii.  41).  The  thought  that  the  young 
raven's  cry  reaches  the  ear  of  God  may  serve 


168  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

to  illustrate  the  intimate  and  kindly  relation 
which  the  poet  conceived  to  exist  between  Na- 
ture and  its  Author. 

The  rock-goat  and  hind  are  briefly  charac- 
terized with  reference  to  their  shy,  hardy,  and 
independent  nature  (xxxix.  1-4).  There  is 
but  One  who  knows  when  and  where  they 
bring  forth  their  young,  and  how  these  same 
young  grow  up  m  the  field ;  and  He  it  is  who 
also  makes  them  sufficient  for  the  tasks  of 
their  lives.  He  sees  them  in  their  hour  of 
helplessness,  far  from  the  haunts  of  men,  and 
He  cares  for  them.  Even  so  Jesus  said  of 
the  sparrows,  "  Not  one  of  them  falleth  to 
the  ground  without  your  Father."  He  is  pres- 
ent in  the  lonely  haunts  of  the  forests  and 
mountams.  He  who  calleth  the  stars  by  name 
knoweth  the  rock-goat  and  hind.  They  are 
not  cast  adrift  by  Him. 

The  description  of  the  wild  ass  breathes  the 
very  spirit  of  j^erfect  animal  freedom. 

"  Who  has  sent  the  wild  ass  away  free, 
And  the  bands  of  the  fleet  one  hath  loosed  ? 
To  whose  house  I  have  made  the  waste  place, 
And  the  desert  of  salt  his  abode. 
He  doth  laugh  at  the  din  of  the  town, 
The  noise  of  the  driver  he  hears  not. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  1G9 

The  mountains'  choice  spots  are  his  pasture, 
And  for  every  green  thing  he  cloth  seek." 

[Chap,  xxxix.  5-8.] 

The  lines  of  this  picture  are  drawn  only  as  one 
could  draw  them  who  felt  a  true  sympathy 
with  Nature.  The  joy  that  this  free  child  of 
the  mountains  takes  in  his  freedom,  "  laugh- 
ing "  at  the  din  of  the  distant  town,  is  re-felt 
by  the  poet.  He  also  lias  escaped  from  the 
noise  of  the  city,  and  lias  breathed  the  air  of 
the  steppe  and  the  bills. 

The  picture  of  the  aurochs,  which  succeeds 
that  of  the  wild  ass,  is  of  a  different  sort. 
The  wild  and  unconquerable  spirit  of  this  ani- 
mal is  brought  out  into  a  strong  light,  not  by 
picturing  him  among  the  mountains,  but  by 
asking  whether  he  will  take  the  place  and  per- 
form the  services  of  the  tame  ox.  Here,  as 
throughout  the  discourse  of  Jehovali,  questions 
are  employed  with  such  effect  that  one  is  re- 
mmded  of  what  Longinus  says  :  "It  seems  to 
me  that  questions  give  a  discourse  more  force 
and  emphasis  than  all  the  figures  of  pictorial 
representation."    The  passage  runs  as  follows  : 

"  Is  the  wild  ox  willing  to  serve  thee, 
Will  he  pass  the  night  at  thy  crih  ? 
Canst  thou  bind  the  wild  ox  to  the  ridge  with 
his  cord, 


170  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Or  harrow  the  valleys  behind  thee  will  he  ? 
Dost  thou  trust  him  since  great  is  his  might, 
And  committest  thy  labor  to  him  ? 
Dost  thou  trust  him  to  gather  thy  seed, 
And  bring  to  thy  floor  ?  " 

[Chap,  xxxix.  9-12.] 

This  is  indirectly  descriptive.  The  poet  does 
not  affirm  of  the  aurochs  that  he  is  untamable 
and  of  great  strength;  yet  he  produces  this 
impression  in  a  vivid  manner,  and  the  very 
indirectness  of  the  description  seems  to  add 
to  the  fierceness  and  fearful  character  of  the 
animal  described. 

The  ostrich  follows  the  aurochs.     The  pas- 
sage is  wholly  descriptive. 

"  The  wing  of  the  ostrich  waves  gladly  : 
Is't  a  gentle  feather  and  pinion  ? 
Nay,  she  leaveth  her  eggs  to  the  earth, 
And  warmeth  them  on  the  dust ; 
She  forgets  that  a  foot  may  crush  them, 
May  trample  them  beasts  of  the  field. 
She  treats  harslily  her  young,  as  not  hers  ; 
Is  her  labor  in  vain,  she  cares  not ; 
For  wisdom  God  made  her  forget. 
And  gave  her  no  dower  in  insight. 
When  she  beateth  her  pinions  on  high, 
She  doth  laugh  at  the  horse  and  his  rider." 

[Chap,  xxxix.  13-18.] 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  171 

This  is  another  character-sketch.  We  are 
made  acquainted  with  the  ostrich  in  a  few 
words,  with  its  weakness  and  its  strength. 
We  see  the  bu'd  at  home  and  abroad,  in  its 
domestic  relations  and  as  pursued  by  the  hunt- 
er. Its  most  noticeable  features  —  a  strange 
lack  of  affection  for  its  young,  and  remarkable 
speed — are  tersely  sketched.  Yet  not  for  the 
sake  of  the  sketch  :  the  poet  has  a  higher  end 
in  view. 

The  description  of  the  ostrich  is  followed 
by  that  of  the  famous  war-horse,  the  only  do- 
mestic animal  introduced  by  the  poet.  Herder 
says  of  this  passage  :  "  The  description  of  the 
war-horse  is  perhaps  the  noblest  ever  pro- 
duced."    We  cite  it  in  full : 

"  Canst  thou  give  to  the  charger  strength  ? 

Canst  thou  mantle  his  neck  with  trembling  ? 

Canst  thou  cause  him  to  leap  as  a  locust  ? 

A  dread  is  his  neighing  majestic. 

He  stamps  in  the  valley,  and  joys  in  his  might ; 

To  meet  the  armed  host  he  goes  forth. 

He  laugheth  at  fear  unamazed, 

And  turneth  not  back  from  the  sword. 

Upon  him  the  quiver  doth  rattle, 

The  glittering  lance  and  spear. 

With  stamping  and  anger  he  swallows  the  earth, 

And  stays  not  when  soundeth  the  trumpet. 


172  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

He  saith  when  it  soundetli,  Aha ! 
And  from  far  he  scenteth  the  battle, 
The  princes'  shout  and  the  war-cry." 

[Chai:).  xxxix.  19-25.] 

Homer's  war-horses  are  generally  connected 
with  scenes  of  blood  and  carnage.  Here  it  is 
the  eve  of  battle,  but  we  are  spared  the  clash 
of  weaj)ons.  This  is  in  keeping  with  the  dig- 
nity of  the  speaker.  The  charger's  neck  is 
mantled  with  "  tremblmg,"  that  is,  with  a 
trembling  mane.  Homer  hardly  ever  omits 
mentioning  the  mane  when  he  speaks  of  war- 
horses.  They  have  luxuriant  manes  that 
sweep  the  ground  (Iliad^  xix.  405),  or  flow- 
ing manes  (xxiii.  14),  or  tossing  manes  which 
stream  upon  the  shoulders  (vi.  503).  This  is 
the  first  allusion  to  outward  attractiveness  that 
we  have  met  with  in  Job's  descriptions. 

Jehovali  makes  the  charger  "  leap  as  a  lo- 
cust," and  with  stamping  he  "  swallows  "  the 
ground.  The  steeds  in  Homer,  which  were  so 
fleet  that  they  could  fly  along  the  topmost  ears 
of  wheat  and  not  break  them,  were  mytholog- 
ical, the  children  of  Boreas  (//i«f?,  xx.  226). 
The  fleetness  of  his  real  horses  is  perhaps  best 
described  in  his  account  of  the  chariot-race 
(xxiii.  500-503):    "All  bright  with  tin  and 


ITS  INTERPRE  TA  TION.  1 7  3 

gold,  the  chariot  rolled  on  after  the  swift 
horses ;  and  only  slight  was  the  track  of  the 
tires  behmd  m  the  light  dust,  so  swiftly  they 
fle^v."  Shakespeare  uses  Job's  figure  of  speed 
when  speakmg  of  the  horse  of  Henry  IV.,  but 
weakens  it  by  saying  that  "  he  seemed  in  run- 
ning to  devour  the  way." 

Again,  the  fearlessness  of  the  charger  and 
his  eagerness  for  the  fray  are  inimitably  por- 
trayed in  Job.  He  "  laughs "  at  fear  una- 
mazed,  he  turns  not  back  from  the  sword,  he 
is  as  excited  as  his  rider  can  be,  he  scents  the 
battle  from  afar.  He  is  all  life  and  fire  and 
fearless  strength.  Every  verse  is  a  picture, 
and  the  description  is  as  terse  as  it  is  vivid. 

The  hawk  and  the  eagle  are  next  mtro- 
duced ;  the  former  for  the  marvellous  instinct 
that  g-uides  it  in  its  long  migrations, — the  lat- 
ter for  its  power  of  wing,  its  streng-th  of  vis- 
ion, and  its  carnivorous  appetite.  These  are 
the  Lord's  endowments.  Man's  wisdom  and 
might  cannot  bring  about  these  results.  Thus 
the  instinct  of  the  hawk  and  the  vision  of  the 
eagle  are  made  to  teach  humility.  It  is  God 
who  guides  the  hawk,  and  who  bids  the  eagle 
soar  aloft. 

The  elaborate  descriptions  of  the  hippo^Dot- 


174  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

amiis  and  crocodile  are  regarded  by  Professor 
Dillman  and  some  others  as  not  belono^inof  to 
the  original  poem,  but  as  the  product  of  a 
later  and  inferior  poet.  This  is  not  the  place 
to  consider  their  arguments,  which,  however, 
seem  very  insufficient.  We  have  simply  to 
call  attention  to  the  leading  characteristics  of 
the  passages  as  poetry.  That  the  descriptions 
are  relatively  long  may  be  due  in  large  part  to 
the  fact  that  the  creatures  spoken  of  were  un- 
kno^vn  to  the  readers.  It  is  not  in  itself  an 
argument  against  the  genuineness  of  the  pas- 
sages. The  hippopotamus  and  crocodile  are 
not  attractive  and  noble,  as  are  the  war-horse 
and  lion,  and  hence  the  descriptions  of  them 
are  naturally  less  to  our  taste ;  but  the  choice 
of  these  creatures  is  determined  by  the  course 
of  thought  in  Jehovali's  discourse,  and  we  are 
to  judge  of  the  merits  of  the  passages  inde- 
pendent of  the  subjects  described. 

The  delineation  of  the  hippopotamus  (xl. 
15-24)  is  as  good  a  character-sketch  as  is  that 
of  the  ostrich.  It  is  true  to  nature,  and  it 
gives  in  a  graphic  manner  the  remarkable  fea- 
tures of  the  animal.  His  bones  are  bars  of 
brass,  his  tail  is  like  a  cedar,  and  where  other 
creatures  are  weak  he  is   strong.     His  jaws 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  175 

are  like  swords,  and  yet  lie  is  so  peaceable 
that  even  when  he  is  hungry  the  beasts  of  the 
field  can  sport  around  him  without  risk.  When 
resting  he  lies  secluded  beneath  a  roof  formed 
by  the  large  leaves,  the  white  and  blue  blos- 
soms of  the  lotus.  Then,  too,  he  is  as  much 
at  home  in  the  water  as  on  land ;  he  would 
not  be  disturbed  though  a  swift  Jordan  were 
rushing  against  him.  The  passage  closes 
with  an  ironical  summons  to  capture  this  an- 
imal : 

"  In  the  sight  of  his  eyes  let  one  take  him ! 
With  hooks  let  one  pierce  through  his  nose !  " 

The  closing  descrij)tion  (chapter  xli.),  that 
of  the  crocodile,  has  certainly  as  marked  evi- 
dences of  genuineness  as  the  preceding.  It 
begins  (v.  1-8)  with  a  series  of  ironical  inter- 
rogations, like  the  passages  on  the  auroch, 
though  the  irony  is  stronger.  These  questions 
give  a  vague  but  fearfid  impression  of  the  un- 
tamable and  unconquerable  character  of  the 
crocodile,  all  the  more  fearful  because  vague. 
After  a  parenthesis  (9-11),  comes  a  somewhat 
minute  description  of  the  characteristic  fea- 
tures of  the  crocodile  (12-24).  His  scales 
are  a  "  garment "  that  no  one  can  open  ;  his 
great  jaws  are  "  doors,"  and  "  dread  "  is  the 


176  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

doorkeeper ;  liis  eyes  are  like  the  eyelids  of 
dawn  ;  sparks  aiid  torches  come  forth  from  his 
mouth  ;  power  dwells  on  his  neck ;  terror  casts 
down  any  luckless  one  who  chances  to  come  in 
the  way ;  and  hard  as  the  nether  millstone  is 
his  heart.  The  eyes  of  the  crocodile  are  said 
to  shine  so  brightly  that  they  can  be  seen  be- 
fore the  creature's  head  comes  near  the  sur- 
face of  the  water.  The  crocodile's  eyes  are 
the  symbol  of  dawn  m  the  Egyptian  hiero- 
gl3q3hics.  According  to  Bochart,  the  breath  of 
the  crocodile  is  ejected  with  such  violence  that 
flames  seem  to  come  from  mouth  and  nostrils. 
Hence  the  figures  employed  in  Job  are  no  ex- 
treme hyperbole.  Nothing  in  any  of  the  preced- 
ing descriptions  surj^asses  in  vividness  and  force 
these  Imes : 

"  On  his  neck  doth  power  abide, 
And  before  him  terror  casts  down." 

In  one  instance,  namely,  in  the  description  of 
the  crocodile's  scales  (15-17),  there  is  prolix- 
ity ;  but  this  has  no  weight  as  against  the  gen- 
uineness of  the  passage,  for  an  occasional  pro- 
lix verse  may  be  found  in  other  parts  of  the 
poem.  Even  Homer  sometimes  nods.  The 
last  section  (v.  25-34),  which  speaks  of  the 
crocodile  as  related  to  man   and  to  his  sur- 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  177 

rounclings,  is  vigorous  and  vivid ;  but  we  must 
pass  it  without  further  remark,  and  add  now 
a  few  conchiding  sentences. 

This  brief  study  of  the  animal  kingdom  in 
the  poem  of  Job  is  perhaps  sufficient  to  show 
that  the  poet  satisfies  m  a  remarkable  manner 
the  chief  demands  that  could  rightfully  be 
made  upon  him.  He  is  faithful  to  nature.  He 
is  a  close  observer  and  a  sympathetic  friend. 
He  seizes  always  upon  that  which  is  character- 
istic. He  portrays  the  nature  of  beast  and 
bird  with  the  simpHcity  of  Homer  and  the 
vividness  of  Dante.  There  is  nothing  in  any 
literature  that  surpasses  his  delineations  in 
picturesqueness,  terseness,  and  power.  Finally, 
in  his  descriptions  of  the  annual  world  he  has 
ever  a  high  end  in  view,  which  he  also  at- 
tains. He  gives  us  there  object-lessons  on  the 
wisdom,  the  power,  and  the  providence  of 
God,  and  on  the  frailty  and  ignorance  of  man. 
We  are  instructed  at  every  step,  and  at  every 
step  are  aware  that  we  are  instructed  by  a 
poet.  The  flight  of  the  hawk  carries  our 
thought  out  to  the  invisible  world,  to  Him 
who  gave  insight ;  the  soaring  of  the  eagle  is 
at  God's  bidding  ;  the  young  raven's  cry  is  not 
only  into  the  ear  of  its  mother  but  also  into 
12 


178  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

the  ear  of  the  Lord ;  Nature  is  as  it  were 
sanctified  and  glorified.  The  presence  of  Je- 
hovah is  everywhere.  He  has  a  fatherly  care 
and  interest  in  each  living  thing.  His  wisdom 
speaks  from  the  earth  and  the  air  ;  His  power 
is  manifest  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left. 
His  providence  extends  to  the  young  eaglets, 
and  to  the  steps  of  the  lion.  The  world  of 
the  Hebrew  poet  is  a  world  close  to  God,  and 
full  of  His  presence.  A  wise  man,  therefore, 
should  walk  softly,  not  speaking  of  things  too 
high  for  him,  nor  fancying  that  he  has  an  arm 
like  that  of  God. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  179 


CHAPTER  IV. 
HUMAN  LIFE  IN  THE  POEM  OF  JOB. 

^^IV  TO  mortal,"  says  Homer,  "  ever  suffered 
1  1  such  pain  and  affliction  "  as  the  hero 
Ulysses.  "  The  gods  veiled  him  in  darkness 
more  than  all  mortals,"  and  he  is  the  ideal  of 
a  "noble  sufferer."  "The  fearful  dangers 
through  which  Ulysses  goes  exalt  his  fame 
and  glorify  him."  But  the  dangers  of  Ulys- 
ses are  physical ;  his  suffermgs,  too,  are  mamly 
physical.  Job's  sufferings  are  predominantly 
mental,  and  mdeed  the  intensest  mental  anguish 
that  is  possible  to  man. 

The  "  Job  "  of  profane  literature  suffers  as 
a  man  belonging  to  this  world  only :  the  Job 
of  the  Bible  suffers  as  a  being  who  belongs  not 
only  to  this  world,  but  also  to  the  world  which 
is  spiritual  and  unseen.  When  the  afflictions 
of  Job  had  perhaps  exceeded  the  utmost  mea- 
sure of  Ulysses'  sufferings,  he  was  still  calm, 
a  "noble  sufferer"  indeed;  strong,  not  as  a  rock 
that  has  no  feeling,  but  with  the  greater  strength 
of  a  heart  that  rests  upon  the  everlasting  arms. 
His  great  soul  found  utterance  in  words  such 
as  never  came  from  the  lips  of  Ulysses. 


180  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

'•  Naked  came  I  from  my  mother's  womb, 

And  naked  shall  tliither  return : 

Jehovah  gave,  and  Jehovah  hath  taken ; 

The  name  of  Jehovah  be  blessed ! 

[Chap.  i.  21.] 

No  complaint  is  heard  as  yet.  The  hour  of 
complaint  has  not  yet  come.  But  when  the 
bitterness  of  Job's  lot  has  at  length  settled  into 
his  lonely  spirit,  and  when  he  feels  the  ter- 
rible mystery  of  it  all,  then,  out  of  such  suffer- 
ings as  Ulysses  never  experienced,  came  plaints 
on  human  life  such  as  neither  Homer  nor  any 
other  classic  poet  ever  uttered.  In  depth  of  re- 
ligious thought,  in  forcefulness,  and  in  beauty 
of  expression,  they  are  unsurpassed  by  anything 
either  in  profane  or  in  sacred  literature. 

To  these  elegiac  passages   in  the  poem  of 
Job  the  attention  of  the  reader  is  now  called. 
And  first  to  the  pathetic  outburst  of  chapter  iii. 
"  Wherefore  gives  He  light  to  the  weary, 
And  life  to  the  bitter  of  soul  ? 
Who  hope  for  death,  but  there  is  none. 
Who  dig  for  it  more  than  for  treasures ; 
Who  joy  with  joy  exceeding, 
Who  exult  when  they  find  a  grave ; 
To  a  man  whose  pathway  is  hid. 
Whom  El(5ah  hath  hedged  round  about." 

What   an   intensity  of  desire   is   here  por- 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  181 

trayed!  Men  searcliing  for  death  with  the 
earnestness  which  was  manifested  in  digging 
for  hid  treasures  in  those  days  when  men  com- 
monly buried  their  vahiables  in  the  earth  for 
safe  keeping.  Here  are  men  who,  on  findmg 
a  grave,  their  grave,  are  filled  with  exceeding 
joy,  and  exult  at  being  vanquished  as  though 
they  were  the  vanquishers  ! 

Shakespeare  tells  us  of  one  man  who  was  in 
such  a  state  of  desire,  namely.  King  Richard. 
He  exclaims  (iii.  3)  : 

"  My  large  kingdom  for  a  little  grave, 
A  little,  httle  grave,  an  obscure  grave." 

Job's  longing  for  a  grave  is  not  without  a  cer- 
tain noble  foundation.  It  is  not  loss  of  friends, 
or  disappointment,  or  disgust  with  the  world  ; 
it  is  because  God  has  "  hid  his  pathway," 
hedged  hun  about  with  mystery,  and  he  does 
not  know  why.  Eloali  has  wronged  him,  Eloah 
has  enclosed  him  in  His  net  (xix.  6). 

Again,  we  hear  Job  describing  his  sufferings, 
and  the  intensity  of  his  language  is  paralleled 
only  by  the  terrible  earnestness  of  the  thought. 

"  Th'  Almighty's  arrows  are  in  me, 
Whose  poison  my  spirit  doth  drink ; 
God's  terrors  are  ordered  against  me." 

[Chap.  vi.  4.] 


182  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Dante  never  paints  more  vividly  than  this,  and 
never  gives  a  more  telling  concentration  of 
solemn  thought.  The  Lord  is  an  archer,  shoot- 
ing at  Job  poisoned  arrows  !  It  is  noticeable 
that  the  figure  is  spiritualized  in  the  next  line, 
where  it  is  said  that  Job's  spirit,  not  his  flesh, 
drinks  the  poison.  In  the  following  Ime  it  is 
not  a  smgle  archer  whom  Job  sees  as  his  foe, 
but  an  army  of  terrors,  drawn  up  in  battle 
array.  These  are  no  earthly  terrors,  else  Job 
could  meet  them ;  but  the  "  terrors  of  God " 
encompass  him  in  fighting  order.  We  find  the 
same  thought  somewhat  modified  in  chapter 
X.  12  : 

"  Thou  renewest  Thy  witnesses  'gainst  me, 
And  increasest  Thine  anger  at  me, 
Fresh  troops  and  an  army  against  me." 

Even  these  divinely  appointed  legions  are  wea- 
ried by  their  repeated  attacks  upon  Job ;  yet 
fresh  troops  are  ever  at  hand  to  replace  those 
that  retire.     The  hostile  ranks  remain  fuU. 

A  similar  war-picture  meets  us  later  in  the 
poem  (xix.  12)  : 

"  Together  His  troops  come  on, 
And  cast  up  against  me  their  way, 
And  encamp  round  about  my  tent." 

Here  the  "  troops  "  are  castmg  up  breastworks 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  183 

from  which  they  may  assail  Job  in  his  help- 
lessness, and  they  lay  permanent  siege  against 
him  on  every  side.  He  is  shut  in  by  the  le- 
gions of  God.  There  is  no  chance  for  flight, 
and  resistance  is  vain. 

Not  less  intense  and  vigorous  are  other  pas- 
sages in  which  Job  speaks  of  his  divine  Ad- 
versary. 

"  He  bruiseth  me  sore  with  a  tempest, 

And  adds  to  my  wounds  without  cause. 

He  suffers  me  not  to  take  breath, 

But  sates  me  with  bitternesses." 

[Chap.  ix.  17-18.] 

"  Bruised  with  a  tempest,"  and  this  directly 
from  the  hand  of  the  Lord, — a  man  may  be 
excused  for  complaining  under  such  circum- 
stances. This  is  heroic  complaint.  It  is  not 
like  the  weeping  of  Achilles  when  Agamemnon 
takes  from  him  his  prize,  the  maid  Briseis 
(/ZiacZ,  i.  356).  Job  speaks  again  in  similar 
terms,  later,  in  the  days  of  his  misery : 

"  I  cry  unto  Thee  unanswered ; 
I  stand,  and  Thou  lookest  upon  me. 
Thou  'rt  changed  toward  me  to  a  tyrant, 
With  strong  hand  Thou  dost  persecute  me. 
Thou  dost  mount  me  on  wind,  mak'st  me  ride, 
And  dost  let  me  dissolve  into  storm." 

[CAap.  XXX.  20-22.] 


184  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

A  passage  from  chapter  xiii.  may  be  read  in 
this  connection : 

"  Wherefore  dost  Thou  cover  Thy  face, 
And  why  dost  Thou  count  me  Thy  foe  ? 
The  wind-tossed  leaf  wilt  Thou  scare, 
And  chase  the  dry  stubble  away  ? 
Thou  puttest  my  feet  in  the  stocks, 
And  dost  carefully  watch  all  my  ways ; 
Mak'st  a  line  round  the  soles  of  my  feet, 
I  who  fail  like  a  worm-eaten  thing. 
As  a  garment  that  moths  have  consumed." 

[Chap.  xiii.  24-25,  27-28.] 

These  passages  give  us  a  glimpse  mto  mis- 
ery profound  enough  to  make  this  world  a 
world  of  "  infinite  bitterness,"  more  truly  than 
it  ever  was  to  the  poet  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
What  despair  in  this  "  wind-tossed  leaf  "  and 
"  dry  stubble  "  !  What  agony  in  the  thought 
that  the  mysterious  power  that  is  tossing  him 
hither  and  thither  is  the  Lord  himself  !  What 
an  Argus-eyed  watch  is  pictured  by  this  "  line 
round  the  soles  of  my  feet "  !  God  is  an  in- 
quisitor of  the  most  painful  exactness.  Let 
Job  move  but  a  hair's  breadth,  and  it  is  noted. 
Let  him  deviate  but  an  infinitesimal  distance 
from  the  line  of  absolute  rectitude,  and  he  is 
called  into  judgment  and  pmiished.    And  what 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  185 

desolation  in  his  "worm-eaten  thing,"  his  "  gar- 
ment that  moths  have  consumed  "  ! 

Job  refers  in  another  place  also  to  the  scru- 
tiny of  God,  and  tells  us  what  some  of  the 
legions  are  which  God  has  sent  against  him : 

"  A  sea  am  I,  am  I  a  whale, 
That  a  watch  Thou  should'st  set  over  me  ? 
When  I  say  that  my  couch  slialt  console  me, 
My  bed  shall  ease  my  complaint ; 
Then  with  dreams  Thou  dost  frighten  me  sore, 
And  with  visions  dost  make  me  afraid." 

[Cha2).  vii.  12-14.] 

It  seems  to  Job  that  there  is  bitter  irony  in 
God's  treatment  of  him.  He,  a  poor,  help- 
less, friendless  mortal,  sitting  on  his  ash-heap, 
is  watched  as  closely  as  though  he  were  a  fierce 
sea  threatening  to  deluge  some  fair  plain,  or 
a  dangerous  sea^monster  about  to  wreck  a 
ship  and  destroy  human  lives. 

The  following  lines  are  as  pathetic  as  the 
fu"st  were  ironical.  Job  lies  down  at  night, 
thinking  that  sleep,  which  "  when  it  comes  to 
sorrow  is  a  comforter,"  will  ease  liis  com- 
plaint ;  but  alas !  he  is  kept  in  fear  by  the 
terrible  dreams  and  visions  that  God  sends 
against  him.  It  is  not  strange  that  he  should 
come  to  dread  the  night. 


186  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

"  When  I  lay  me  to  rest,  then  I  say, 

When  rise  I  ?  but  eve  groweth  long. 

And  till  dawn  I  am  full  of  tossings." 

[Chap.  vii.  4.] 

His  evening  grows  long,  for  "  grief  makes  one 
hour  ten."  In  the  following  passage  the  tone 
is  softened,  the  words  are  half  plaint,  half 
prayer : 

"  O  that  in  Shedl  Thou  wouldst  hide  me, 

Wouldst  conceal  me  till  past  be  Thy  wrath, 

Wouldst  set  me  a  bound  and  recall  me ! 

If  man  die  shall  he  live  again  ? 

All  the  days  of  my  warfare  I'd  wait, 

Until  my  release  should  come. 

Thou  wouldst  call,  and  to  Thee  I'd  reply ; 

For  the  work  of  Thy  hands  Thou  wouldst  yearn." 

[Chap.  xiv.  13-15.] 

Job  feels,  like  the  Greek  poet,  that  "not  to 
have  been  born  is  the  best ";  but  he  does  not 
think  of  taking  his  own  life.  He  would  be 
glad  if  God  would  cut  hini  off,  or,  as  he  beau- 
tifully expresses  himself  here,  would  "  hide 
him  in  Sheol."  But  he  does  not  long  for  an 
"  iron  sleep  ";  he  does  not  wish  to  be  hid  from 
God  forever,  but  only  so  long  as  God's  wrath 
continues.  Then,  when  the  storm  is  past, 
when  the  liaj^py  day  of  release  comes,  and 
God  calls  in  the  "  still  kingdom,"  "  Job  !  "  he 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  187 

will  reply.  He  has  a  feeling  that  God  will 
"  yearn  "  after  him,  because  he  is  the  work  of 
His  hands. 

We  notice  one  more  complaint  of  Job  con- 
cerning God : 

"  O  that  I  knew  where  to  find  Him, — 
Could  come  even  unto  His  place !  .  .  .  . 
Lo,  eastward  I  go,  He's  not  there, 
And  westward,  I  do  not  observe  Him ; 
To  the  north,  when  He  works,  I  discern  not, 
He  hides  in  the  south,  and  I  see  not." 

[Chap,  xxviii.  3,  8-9.] 

These  are  the  saddest  lines  in  Job,  if  not  in 
all  literature.  Job  has  lost  his  God,  and 
though  he  seeks  Him  on  every  side,  he  finds 
Him  not.  The  home  of  his  heart  is  desolate  ; 
its  warmth  and  brightness  are  gone ;  the  sound 
of  the  Father's  voice  is  heard  there  no  more. 
Only  the  infinitely  disconsolate  cry  is  heard : 
"O  that  I  knew  where  to  find  Him!"  Job 
feels  himseK  alone  in  the  great  universe.  He 
turns  hither  and  thither,  calling  his  God,  but 
there  is  no  response.  It  is  not  that  God  has 
ceased  to  be,  but  —  something  even  more  des- 
olating to  the  soul  —  He  has  ceased  to  be  gra- 
cious. He  has  hidden  HimseK  in  anger.  He 
has  concealed  Himself  as  a  foe. 


188  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

We  pass  on  to  notice  what  Job  says  of  the 
brevity  of  life : 
"  My  days  are  swifter  than  couriers, 
They  flee,  they  see  nothing  good. 
They  ghde  by  as  boats  of  bulrushes, 
As  an  eagle  swoops  down  on  his  prey." 

[Chap.  ix.  25-26.] 

These  comparisons  are  exquisitely  chosen.  The 
courier  was  the  living  telegraph  of  the  ancient 
world.  A  light  boat  of  reeds,  rowed  by  strong 
and  trained  hands,  how  easily  and  noiselessly 
does  it  glide  by!  (See  Inferno.^  viii.  13-16.) 
But  swifter  still  is  the  flight  of  an  eagle,  as 
from  some  lofty  height  he  swoops  down  with 
folded  wings  upon  his  unsuspecting  prey.  Sim- 
ilar illustrations  of  the  brevity  of  life  are  drawn 
by  Homer  from  the  natural  world.  He  says 
in  one  place,  "  Like  the  leaves  in  the  wood,  so 
are  the  generations  of  men."  {Iliad.,  vi.  186.) 
And  again,  "  Men  are  frail  as  leaves  in  the 
forest,  which  now  grow  together  in  strength, 
enjoying  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  and  then  per- 
ishing fly  away."  In  the  language  of  Shake- 
speare, "A  man's  life's  no  more  than  to  say  one." 
Job's  comparisons  are  always  concrete.  His 
symbols  of  swiftness  are  the  courier,  the  light- 
boat,  the  swooping  eagle,  and  the  flying  shadow. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  189 

Shakespeare,  on  the  contrary,  draws  often  from 
the  spiritual  world,  and  uses  abstract  compari- 
sons.    He  says  in  Hamlet  (i.  4)  : 

"  Haste  me  to  know 't ;  that  I,  with  wings  as  swift 

As  meditation,  or  the  thoughts  of  love 

May  sweep  to  my  revenge." 

We  consider,  in  the  next  place.  Job's  con- 
ceptions of  death  and  Sheol.     The  way  to  the 
shadow-world  is  a  way  without  return. 
"  As  a  cloud  melts  away  and  is  gone, 
So  who  goes  to  Shedl  shall  not  rise  ; 
He  shall  not  come  again  to  his  house, 
And  his  place  shall  know  him  no  more." 

[Chap.  vii.  9-10.] 

That  is  "the  undiscovered  country  from 
whose  bourne  no  traveller  returns."  The  house 
whose  master  has  gone  the  way  to  Sheol  shall 
not  know  him  agam.  Job's  pictures  of  "  the 
undiscovered  country  "  vary  with  his  varymg 
moods.  When  he  is  longmg  to  die  and  de- 
spairing of  the  divine  favor,  he  represents  the 
"  still  kingdom  "  as  attractively  as  the  faith  of 
his  day  would  permit. 

"  The  wicked  have  ceased  there  from  troubling, 
And  there  are  the  weary  at  rest. 
Together  in  peace  are  the  captives, 
They  hear  not  a  taskmaster's  voice. 


190  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

There  small  and  great  are  the  same, 
And  the  servant  is  free  from  his  lord." 

[Chap.  iii.  17-19.] 
This  is  less  than  the  classic  poet  says  of  Ely- 
sium, at  least  in  some  respects ;  in  others  it  is 
more.  Virgil  says  of  the  realm  of  the  de- 
parted :  "  There  falls  no  snow,  no  hail  there 
destroys,  no  hurricane  rages  there  through  the 
blooming  land.  But  zephyrs  rustling  move, 
sent  by  Oceanus  for  cooling."  These  cu-cum- 
stances  are  but  external :  the  thought  of  Job 
lies  deeper.  His  dark  Sheol  has  a  more  at- 
tractive feature  than  an  Italian  climate  and 
sea-breezes,  and  that  feature  is  rest.  In  Vir- 
gil's Elysium  no  hurricane  rages ;  in  Job's 
Sheol  the  wicked  have  ceased  from  troubling. 
Later,  and  in  a  different  mood.  Job  gives 
us  a  different  description  of  Sheol.  He  dwells 
now  on  its  forbidding  aspect,  because  he  wishes 
to  awaken  pity  in  the  Lord,  and  move  Him  to 
grant  a  respite  from  suffermg. 

"Are  not  my  days  few?    Let  Him  cease, 
Turn  away,  that  I  cheer  up  a  little. 
Ere  I  go — and  I  shall  not  return — 
To  a  land  of  darkness  and  gloom, 
To  a  land  of  blackness  like  midnight, 
[A  land]  of  gloom  and  disorder, 
Where  it  shineth  like  midnight."     [Chaji.  x.  20-22.] 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  191 

If  darkness  be  tlie  "  clam  of  horrors,"  this  pic- 
ture is  one  of  the  most  fearful.  Light  is 
one  of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of  the 
Christian  description  of  heaven,  and  gloom  is 
the  leading  feature  of  Job's  Sheol.  We  have 
not  words  enough  in  our  language  to  express 
this  gloom.  The  mildest  darkness  in  that  blind 
world  is  midnight.     Job  says  further  of  it : 

"  If  I  hope  for  Shedl  as  my  house, 
Have  spread  in  the  darkness  my  couch, 
Have  called  to  the  grave,  Thou  'rt  my  father ! 
My  mother  !  my  sister  !  to  worms : 
Then  where,  O  where  is  my  hope, 
Yea,  my  hope,  who  shall  ever  behold  it  ?  " 

[Chap.  xvii.  13-16.] 

Job  has  entered,  in  imagination,  the  house 
which  lasts  till  doomsday.  He  has  spread 
his  couch  there,  has  called  the  gi^ave  by  the 
tender  word  "  my  father  ";  he  has  greeted  the 
worms  as  "  sister  "  and  "  mother."  He  feels 
quite  at  home  with  them.  Dante  says  he  so 
imagined  things  he  felt  them ;  and  so  does 
Job.  No  more  powerful  imagination  has  ever 
expressed  itself. 

Another  aspect  of  human  life  on  which  the 
author  of  Job  spends  much  thought  is  the 
Fate  of  the  Wicked.     This   is  the  theme  of 


192  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

some  of  his  most  characteristic  and  poetical 
passages.  It  is  peculiarly  the  theme  of  Job's 
friends,  as  the  elegiac  passages  are  mainly  by 
Job  liimseK.  The  wicked  are  not  followed  into 
the  next  world,  but  the  "  Inferno "  of  the 
poem  lies  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  and  its 
punishments  are  all  believed  to  be  fearfully 
real.  The  passages  on  the  theme  under  con- 
sideration are  so  numerous  that  we  shall  be 
obliged  to  pass  over  many  without  the  notice 
they  deserve.  We  wiU  choose  a  few  as  speci- 
mens of  the  poet's  thought  and  skiU. 

In  the  vigorous  language  of  Bildad,  the  wick- 
ed man  is  one  "whose  trust  is  a  fragile  thing, — 

"  And  a  spider's  house  is  his  hope. 
He  leans  on  his  house,  and  it  stands  not, 
He  grasps  it,  it  doth  not  endure. 
He  is  full  of  sap  in  the  sunshine, 
And  his  shoots  o'er  his  garden  come  forth ; 
Round  a  mound  are  his  roots  interlaced, 
Between  the  stones  he  crowds  through. 
If  He  blots  him  out  from  his  place, 
It  denies  liim :  '  I  never  have  seen  thee.'  " 

[Chap.  viii.  14-18.] 

A  spider's  house,  so  frail  that  a  fly  may  shat- 
ter it  or  a  squirrel's  foot  tear  it  in  pieces — 
that  is  the  emblem  of  a  sinner's   hope.     His 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  193 

hope  is  his  wealth,  his  family,  his  house  in  a 
broad  sense  of  that  word.  He  leans  on  it  in 
the  day  of  distress,  but  it  stands  not ;  in  his 
despair  he  grasps  it,  as  a  sinking  man  clutches 
at  a  spar,  but  it  is  all  m  vain.  Again,  the 
wicked  is  a  luxuriant  vine.  It  sends  out  abun- 
dant shoots  ;  and  its  roots  force  their  way  be- 
tween the  stones  of  the  mound  on  which  it  is 
planted.  But  when  the  Lord  visits  this  luxu- 
riant vine  in  judgment,  it  is  so  terribly  changed 
that  it  is  henceforth  unrecognizable  in  the 
place  of  its  abode. 

Still  more  unpressive  is  the  description  by 
the  aged  Eliphaz,  in  which  the  suffering  of  the 
wicked  is  represented  as  caused  by  the  scourge 
of  a  bad  conscience. 
"  The  wicked  man  is  in  pain  all  his  days, 
And  the  sum  of  the  years  reserved  for  the  tyrant. 
A  terrible  sound  in  his  ears — 
In  peace  comes  the  robber  ujDon  him  I 
He  expects  no  return  from  the  darkness, 
And  chosen  is  he  for  the  sword. 
He  roams  for  his  bread — '  Ah,  where  ? ' 
He  knows  that  near  by  stands  the  day  of  gloom. 
Distress  and  anxiety  fright  him, 
It  vanquishes  him  like  a  lance-trained  king." 

[Cha]}.  XV.  20-24.] 

A  single  brief  sentence,  and  a  poor  wretch 

13 


194  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

stands  before  us,  terrified  and  trembling,  out- 
wardly in  peace  but  seeing  with  the  mind's  eye 
the  weapons  and  fierce  looks  of  robbers.  He 
already  regards  himself  as  a  dead  man.  The 
figure  changes,  and  this  bad  rich  man  is  tor- 
tured by  imaginary  hunger,  and  sees  himself 
wandering  about  in  a  vain  search  after  bread. 
The  poet  hears  his  despairing  cry,  as  he  turns 
this  way  and  that,  exclaimmg,  "  Ah,  where  ?  " 
We  see  the  man  with  an  evil  conscience  when 
he  is  at  last  overcome  by  distressful  anxiety. 
He  is  vanquished  by  it  as  by  a  lance-tramed 
king. 

King  Richard's  account  of  an  e\dl  conscience 
is  powerful,  but  is  less  concrete  and  picturesque 
than  that  by  Eliphaz  : 

"  O  coward  conscience,  how  thou  dost  afflict  me  ! 
My  conscience  hath  a  thousand  several  tongues, 
And  every  tongue  brings  in  a  several  tale, 
And  every  tale  condemns  me  for  a  villain." 

[King  Bichard  the  Third,  v.  3.] 

Less  profound  than  the  words  of  Eliphaz, 
but  hardly  less  vivid,  is  Bildad's  description  of 
the  fate  of  the  wicked.  We  quote  some  pas- 
sages from  it : 

"  The  steps  of  his  strength  are  straightened, 
And  his  own  advice  casts  him  down. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  195 

For  his  own  feet  do  ensnare  him, 
And  he  walketh  over  the  toils. 
A  gin  layeth  hold  on  his  heel, 
A  noose  doth  fasten  upon  him. 
Concealed  on  the  ground  is  its  cord. 

And  its  net  is  hid  on  his  path." 

[Chap,  x^^ii%  7-10.] 

Even  with  short,  careful  steps,  the  sinner  es- 
capes not.  He  is  self -ruined  :  his  own  counsel 
casts  him  do^\^l.  The  impossibility  of  escape, 
the  suddenness  of  his  fall,  and  the  dishonor  of 
his  end,  are  admirably  portrayed.  Wherever 
the  man  goes,  there  are  toils  beneath  him.  A 
gin  lays  hold  on  his  heel,  and  a  noose  fastens 
upon  him.  Its  cord  is  concealed  in  his  very 
path.  Nets,  toils,  gms,  snares,  nooses, — the 
things  he  has  used  in  his  wickedness,  the  em- 
blems of  his  own  craft  and  guile, — these  are 
before,  behind,  and  beneath  hun,  that  he  es- 
cape not. 

In  a  following  passage  the  poet  weaves  into 
his  description  some  features  of  Job's  own  case. 
"  There  eateth  the  limbs  of  his  frame — 
Eats  his  members,  the  first-born  of  death. 
He  is  dragged  from  his  tent,  his  trust, 
To  the  king  of  terrors  must  march." 

[Chaj).  xviii.  13-14.] 

The  "  first-born  of  death  "  is  a  mortal  dis- 


196  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

ease, — a  bolder  figure  than  that  of  the  Arabic 
literature,  in  which  deadly  fevers  are  called 
the  "  daughters  of  fate."  It  is  plain  that  this 
figure  was  chosen  to  describe  the  leprosy  which 
was  consuming  Job.  The  picture  of  what  fol- 
lows after  the  first-born  of  death  has  eaten  the 
limbs  of  the  doomed  one  is  intense  and  terri- 
ble. The  ministers  of  death  come  to  get  the 
dying  man.  He  resists,  and  they  must  drag 
him  forth  from  his  house.  Then  he  is  com- 
pelled to  march  off  to  the  king  of  terrors. 
Compare  with  this  characterization  of  death 
that  by  the  Greek  poet :  "  Thither  leadeth  me 
the  queen  of  shadows."  This  passage  on  the 
end  of  the  sinner,  in  its  vividness  and  rugged 
force,  is  unsurj^assed.  We  can  imagine  Dante  as 
speaking  thus,  but  hardly  a  second  modern  poet. 
It  remains  to  notice  what  Job  himself  says 
of  the  fate  of  the  wicked.  Unlike  the  friends, 
he  begins  by  describing  the  loss  of  the  wicked 
man's  various  possessions,  saving  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  wicked  man  himself  until  the  last. 
First  he  s^^eaks  of  the  sinner's  family. 
"  If  his  sons  increase,  they  're  the  sword's, 
And  his  seed  are  not  sated  with  bread. 
His  remnant  are  buried  by  death, 
And  as  for  his  widows,  they  weep  not." 

{Chap,  xxvii.  14-15.] 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  197 

That  one's  children  should  perish  by  the  sword 
and  hunger,  is  a  heavy  loss  ;  but  heavier  is  the 
calamity  when  the  affection  of  the  most  inti- 
mate friends  is  turned  into  cold  indifference. 
Job  assumes  here  the  death  of  the  sinner,  but 
the   disgrace   that  attaches  to  his  memory  is 
none  the  less  a  personal  loss.     What  befalls 
the  sinner's  wealth  is  next  described : 
"  Though  he  heapeth  ujj  silver  as  dust, 
And  raiment  preparetli  as  clay : 
He  prepares,  but  the  righteous  doth  wear  it. 
And  his  silver  the  innocent  shares. 
He  has  built  as  a  moth  his  house, 
As  a  booth  that  a  watchman  has  made. 
He  lieth  down  rich,  but  not  twice, 
He  has  opened  his  eyes,  and  is  gone !  " 

[Chajy.  xxvii.  16-19.] 

He  not  only  loses  his  wealth,  but  it  comes  into 
the  possession  of  the  very  people  whom  he 
hates.  His  strong  house  is,  after  all,  most 
fragile,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  both 
himself  and  his  wealth  disappear.  He  is  rich 
a  smgle  night.  In  the  morning  he  opens  his 
eyes  and  lo,  in  the  next  breath,  he  is  gone. 
Then  his  fearful  end  is  described : 
"  Terrors  o'ertake  him  like  waters, 

A  storm  bears  him  off  in  the  night. 

East  wind  lifts  him  uj)  and  he  goes, 


198  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

And  it  sweeps  him  away  from  his  place. 
And  He  hurls  upon  him  unsparing, 
From  His  hand  he  would  utterly  flee. 
Men  clap  their  hands  at  him, 
And  hiss  him  forth  from  his  place." 

[Chap,  xxvii.  20-23.] 

It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  of  a  more  fear- 
ful ending  of  life  than  this.  Terrors,  like  a 
sudden  flood,  overtake  the  sinner,  the  dire 
forerunners  of  his  awful  end.  His  life  has 
been  black ;  it  goes  out  in  blackness.  A  vio- 
lent storm  sweeps  him  away  in  the  night,  as 
though  he  were  but  chafp.  The  description  is 
completed  by  a  reference  to  the  attitude  of 
God  and  men  toward  the  sinner.  The  former 
hurls  upon  him  His  bolts  without  mercy,  and 
the  latter  hiss  him  from  his  place.  The  wrath 
of  God  and  the  execrations  of  men  are  upon 
him.  This  painting  is  by  a  master-hand. 
There  is  nothing  like  it  save  in  the  Inferno  of 
Dante.  He  alone  has  such  terrible  and  vivid 
imagery. 

There  is  yet  a  third  aspect  of  life  which  the 
poet  presents,  especially  in  Job's  retrospect 
and  in  his  final  plea.  It  is  the  life  on  which 
the  smile  of  God  rests. 

After  the  contest  with  his  friends  was  past 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  199 

and  Job's  thoughts  were  free  to  turn  whither 
they  would,  it  was  natural  that  he  should  flee 
from  the  mysterious  and  painful  present  to 
take  refuge  for  a  little  space  in  the  bright  days 
gone  by.  As  we  look  back  through  Job's  eyes 
on  his  past  life,  we  see  that  which  enables  us 
to  understand  the  depth  of  his  present  misery, 
and  the  hope  which  now  and  then  shoots  up 
like  an  auroral  light  toward  the  zenith. 
Let  us  hear  his  words : 

"  Had  I  [months]  like  the  months  of  the  past, 
Like  the  days  when  Eldah  watched  o'er  me ! — 
When  His  lamp  still  shone  on  my  head, 
By  His  light  I  walked  in  the  darkness ;  — 
As  I  was  in  the  days  of  my  prime, 
When  God's  counsel  was  over  my  tent. 
While  yet  the  Almighty  was  with  me. 

Around  me  my  children."   ^^,  .    ^  ^ -, 

iChap.  XXIX.  2-o.J 

How  could  a  brighter  picture  of  happiness  and 
prosperity  be  drawn  than  is  contained  in  these 
figures  ? — "  the  days  when  Eloah  watched  o'er 
me,"  "  when  His  lamp  still  shone  on  my  head," 
"  when  His  counsel  was  on  my  tent,"  "  when 
the  Almighty  was  with  me."  Heaven  lay 
about  him.  A  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or 
land  shone  on  his  head.  Ravished  by  the 
thought  of  that  departed  bliss,  he  dwells  upon 


200  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

the  secret  of  it,  and  repeats  again  and  again 
that  the  Lord  was  with  him.  Not  only  was 
God's  counsel  on  his  tent,  but  the  family-circle 
was  unbroken.  His  children  were  round  about 
him.  Then  memory  recalls  his  outward  good- 
fortune. 

"  When  my  steps  were  bathing  in  cream, 
And  the  rock  pouring  rivers  of  oil  at  my  side." 

Even  the  rock  became  fruitful  for  him  whom 
God  loved.  Job  dwells  with  especial  fond- 
ness on  the  honor  which  was  shown  him  in 
those  by-gone  days.  When  he  erected  his 
seat  in  the  place  of  judgment,  the  young 
men  "  hid  themselves,"  the  old  men  "  arose 
and  stood,"  even  the  princes  were  "  chary  of 
words,"  and  the  noble  ones  "  ceased  "  speak- 
ing (verses  7-10).  He  was  clothed  with  honor 
because  he  had  clothed  himself  with  righteous- 
ness. 

"  I  put  on  justness ;  it  clothed  me  ; 
My  right  was  as  mantle  and  turban." 

At  that  time  Job  looked  forward  to  a  green 

old  age. 

"  I  said,  In  my  nest  I  shall  die, 
And  shall  multiply  days  like  the  phoenix. 
To  the  waters  my  root  will  lie  bare, 
And  dew  pass  the  night  on  my  branch. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  201 

My  glory  still  fresh  will  be  with  me, 

And  my  bow  will  grow  young  in  my  hand." 

[Chap.  xxix.  18-20.] 

The  allusion  to  the  beautiful  fable  of  the  phoe- 
nix is  an  appropriate  dress  for  the  thought  of 
the  long  life  that  stretched  out  before  him. 
Equally  liappy  is  the  figure  that  follows,  in 
which  Job  compares  himself  to  a  tree  whose 
roots  shall  not  lack  water  and  whose  branches 
shall  be  refreshed  by  the  nightly  dews.  Nei- 
ther will  he  lack  honor  in  the  future,  and  his 
strength  will  be  continually  renewed. 

This  retrospect  gives  place  to  a  picture  of 
the  unhappy  present  (chapter  xxx.),  and  then 
follows  Job's  final  plea  (chapter  xxxi.).  The 
ideal  of  pure  and  noble  character  which  it  con- 
tains is  without  parallel  m  pre-Christian  liter- 
ature. This  ideal  is  presented  in  a  simple, 
picturesque,  and  dignified  poetical  style.  The 
fiofures  are  all  from  the  scenes  of  common  life. 
In  picturesqueness  and  force  this  passage  is 
remarkable,  even  in  the  poem  of  Job.  Virtues 
and  vices  breathe  and  move.  Job  does  not 
mention  chastity  and  lust  by  name ;  but  de- 
clares that  he  has  made  a  league  with  his  eyes, 
as  tw^o  persons  enter  into  a  covenant  for  some 
common  end.     His  eyes  are  under  bonds  not 


202  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

to  look  on  a  maid.  He  does  not  speak  of  be- 
nevolence ;  but  of  warming  the  poor  man  with 
the  fleece  of  his  lambs.  Nor  of  superstition  ; 
but  of  kissing  his  hand  to  the  moon.  A  com- 
plete system  of  ethics  is  presented  in  a  series 
of  pictures,  each  of  which  is  simple  and  clear- 
cut.  Every  figure  seems  perfectly  adapted  to 
the  idea.  The  poet  shows  the  highest  skill  in 
bodying  forth  abstract  thought.  He  can  com- 
pose as  poetical  an  ode  on  a  man's  creed  as  on 
the  works  of  Jehovah.  He  can  make  the  com- 
mon-place sights  and  experiences  of  daily  life 
vehicles  for  the  expression  of  the  loftiest  mo- 
rality and  the  most  intense  feeling  of  a  soul 
that  is  pleading  its  cause  at  the  bar  of  God. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  203 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE  POET'S  CONCEPTIONS  OF  GOD. 

REGARDED  simply  as  poetry,  the  views 
of  God  to  be  found  in  the  Book  of  Job 
have  few  parallels  in  any  literature  outside  of 
the  Bible,  and  even  there  are  never  surpassed. 
The  magnificent  descriptions  of  an  Isaiah  may 
be  placed  by  the  side  of  the  poetry  in  Job ; 
but  there  is  nothmg  in  classic  heathen  writers, 
and  little  even  in  the  great  Christian  poets 
of  modern  times,  that  merits  such  an  honor. 
Homer  and  Milton  may  be  taken  as  fit  repre- 
sentatives of  the  poets  of  these  two  ages  ;  and 
we  may  compare  their  conceptions  of  the  Di- 
vine Being  with  those  of  the  poem  of  Job. 
While  admirmg  the  lofty  genius  of  these  wi-it- 
ers,  I  believe  that  they  themselves  would  have 
bowed  before  the  unknown  author  of  Job  as 
one  who  brought  from  his  harp  sublimer  strains 
than  they.  If  a  comparison  should  seem  to 
substantiate  this  statement,  we  should  not  be 
left  poorer  in  Homer  and  Milton,  but  richer 
as  regards  Job.  This  Hebrew  poem  is  rela- 
tively unknown  as  a  literary  production.  When 
it  is  studied,  it  is  studied  only  for  its  teaching ; 


204  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

and  furtliermore,  its  literary  merits  are  less 
appreciable  in  any  translation  that  has  been 
made  than  are  those  of  Homer,  Virgil,  or 
Dante,  in  the  translations  of  their  works  which 
we  possess. 

In  drawing  a  comparison  between  Job  on 
the  one  hand,  and  Homer  and  Milton  on  the 
other,  it  is  of  course  not  forgotten  that  they 
represent  three  widely  different  planes  of  rev- 
elation. One  smgs  in  the  twilight  of  a  revela- 
tion through  nature  and  conscience ;  one,  in 
the  midst  of  a  history  illumined  and  exalted 
by  supernatural  displays  of  Divine  power  and 
grace  ;  and  the  last,  in  the  increasing  splendor 
of  a  Christian  civilization.  Yet  while  not 
comparable  as  regards  the  absolute  truth  of 
their  conceptions,  it  is  possible  to  compare 
them  as  poets.    This  only  is  proposed. 

Now  we  find,  on  studying  Homer,  that  his 
gods  are  often  laughable,  often  undignified, 
often  less  honorable  and  less  poetical  than  his 
Greek  and  Trojan  heroes ;  and  they  are  sel- 
dom sublime.  Longinus  felt  this  when  he 
said :  "It  almost  seems  to  me  that  Homer 
tried  to  make  his  Trojans  gods,  and  his  gods 
men."  It  is  amusing  to  read,  for  instance, 
how  Oileiis  identifies  the  dwellers  on  Olympus. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  205 

"  Some  god,  O  Ajax,  from  the  Olympian  hill, 
like  the  seer  in  form,  cloth  bid  us  fight  by  the  ships ; 
for  Calchas  was  it  not,  who  augurs  from  the  flight 
of  birds :  for  well  I  marked  from  beliind  the  foot- 
prints and  the  legs,  as  he  departed ;  verily  the  gods 
are  easily  known." — \_Iliad,  xiii.  08-72.] 

One  can  scarcely  prevent  a  smile  on  reading 
the  answer  which  Sleep  makes  to  the  request 
of  Here,  who  asks  her  to  close  the  glorious 
eyes  of  Zeus.  Sleep  relates  how  she  had  once 
lulled  the  senses  of  the  iEgis-bearer,  while 
Here,  planning  mischief  for  Ulysses,  waked 
the  blasts  of  all  the  bitter  winds  to  sweep  the 
ocean,  and  then  she  adds : 

"  But  he  on  awaking  was  wroth,  hurhng  the  gods 
about  in  the  hall ;  but  me  he  seeks  before  all,  and 
me,  banished  from  the  ethereal  sky,  he  would  have 
east  into  the  sea,  had  not  Night,  the  subduer  of  gods 
and  men,  preserved  me." — \_IUad,  xiv.  256-259.] 

Still  more  noticeable  are  the  warning  w^ords 
which  Zeus  directs  to  Here  : 

"  Dost  thou  not  remember  when  thou  didst  swinsr 

o 

on  high,  and  I  hung  two  anvils  on  thy  feet,  and 
bound  around  thy  hands  a  band  of  gold  that  none 
could  break?  Then  in  the  air  and  clouds  thou 
didst  swing,  and  the  gods  through  high  Olympus 
were  sorrowful,  but  no  one,  coming  near,  dared  to 
loose  [thee]."— [/^iacZ,  xv.  18-22.] 


206  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

Tliis  is  rather  too  serious  a  matter  to  smile  at, 
yet  the  scene  that  is  brought  before  us — Here 
suspended  in  mid-air  with  an  anvil  tied  to  each 
immortal  foot  to  keep  her  straight — does  not  lie 
far  from  the  ludicrous.  Of  the  same  character 
is  the  test  proposed  by  the  Father  of  the  gods. 
If  they  doubt  his  supremacy,  they  can  convince 
themselves  of  it  by  this  simple  experiment : 

"  Make  now  the  trial,  O  gods,  that  all  of  you 
may  know.  Letting  down  a  golden  chain  from 
heaven,  do  all  ye  gods  and  all  ye  goddesses  cling 
to  it,  yet  ye  could  not  from  heaven  to  earth  draw 
down  Zeus,  adviser  supreme,  and  though  ye  quite 
wearied  yourselves  in  the  toil.  But  should  I  now 
myself  be  inclined  to  pull,  with  the  earth  itself  I 
should  draw  you  up,  and  e'en  with  the  sea.  And 
then  I  would  bind  the  chain  round  the  topmost  peak 
of  Olympus  so  that  all  things  would  then  hang  sus- 
pended."—[JZiW,  viii.  15-23.] 

But  the  Olympian  deities  not  only  appear 
in  an  amusing  light,  which  detracts  seriously 
from  their  legitimate  effect  even  as  poetical 
gods, —  they  are  also  often  positively  undigni- 
fied. Pallas  steals  up  behind  Achilles  and 
pulls  his  yellow  hair  (i.  197);  Here  harnesses 
her  o^vn  horses  (v.  731);  Pallas  and  Phoebus 
assume  the  form  of  vultures,  and  sit  in  the  top 
of  a  birch-tree  (vii.  59);  Thetis  finds  Vulcan 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  207 

sweating  and  toiling,  plying  the  bellows  with 
busy  hand  (xviii.  339);  Zeus  seizes  Ate  by  the 
hair  of  her  head,  and  swinging  her  on  high 
hurls  her  from  the  starry  heaven  (xix.  126); 
all  the  gods  go  forth  to  mingle  in  the  fight  be- 
tween Trojans  and  Greeks  (xx.  32);  Here 
whips  Diana,  beating  her  about  the  ears  with 
her  quiver  (xxi.  502).  One  might  supj^ose 
that  a  god  could  attract  the  attention  of  a  mor- 
tal in  a  more  god-like  way  than  by  pulling  his 
hair.  Here,  as  queen  of  the  gods,  spouse  of 
Saturnian  Zeus,  would  be  acting  in  a  way  bet- 
ter becoming  her  state  if  she  should  dispatch  a 
servant  to  bring  her  team.  It  is  by  no  means 
beneath  her  dignity  to  work, —  but  she  must 
work  as  a  goddess,  not  as  a  common  menial. 
The  poet  has  no  right  to  sacrifice  her  dignity. 
Again,  we  could  have  no  objection  if  Pallas 
and  Phoebus  should  choose  the  vulture  as  their 
favorite  bird,  but  there  is  a  lessening  of  respect 
for  them  as  gods  when  they  enter  into  the  un- 
clean carrion-eatmg  vultures.  Zeus  himself  is 
represented  as  a  mere  executioner,  and  a  bar- 
barous one  at  that.  He  seizes  Ate  by  the 
hair,  and  swings  her  around  in  the  air  before 
hurling  her  from  the  battlements  of  heaven. 
This  picture  is  disagreeably  human.     If  Zeus 


208  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB, 

were  an  uncultivated  savage,  we  should  feel 
tliat  sucli  actions  were  in  harmony  with  his 
character;  hut  call  him  a  god,  and  indeed 
the  supreme  god,  and  our  sense  of  what  is  be- 
coming is  harslily  offended.  Again,  Here  whips 
Diana  in  the  presence  of  Apollo  and  Neptune. 
This  does  not  appear  to  us  a  fitting  scene  for 
the  stage  of  epic  poetry.  One  woman  beatmg 
another  is  in  no  wise  a  poetical  incident.  The 
comic  poet,  wishing  to  satirize  womankind  or 
to  amuse  the  vulgar,  might  introduce  such  an 
episode,  but  no  serious  poet  can  do  it.  Now 
if  the  action  of  one  woman  beating  another  lies 
without  the  sphere  of  serious  poetry,  much  more 
does  the  action  of  one  goddess  beating  another 
goddess.  If  Here  and  Diana  bear  themselves 
no  better  than  two  quarrelsome  women,  the 
poet  can  not  be  considered  to  have  achieved 
great  success  in  his  endeavors  to  represent  them 
as  goddesses.  Indeed,  Andromache  and  the 
wife  of  Ulysses  appear  to  better  advantage  than 
Diana  and  the  consort  of  the  Cloud-compeller. 
Furthermore,  Homer's  gods  are  immoral, 
and  immorality  injures  their  appearance  in 
poetry.  We  cite  only  two  instances  of  the  im- 
morality of  Homer's  gods,  but  these  are  con- 
clusive. First,  Pallas  lies  to  Hector  (xxii.  239). 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  209 

While  Hector  is  fleeing  before  the  swift  Achilles 
around  the  Trojan  walls,  Pallas  approaches  him 
in  the  form  of  Deiphobus,  a  brother  of  Hec- 
tor. This  was  a  lie,  and  a  very  mean  one 
too.  It  awakened  in  the  heart  of  a  brave  man 
the  hope  of  assistance,  while  Pallas  not  only 
intended  to  leave  him  unhelped,  but  purposed 
to  aid  his  foe.  The  whole  bearing-  of  Pallas 
is  ignoble,  and  if  found  in  a  man  would  justly 
give  us  cause  to  abhor  him.  But  still  more 
objectionable,  if  possible,  is  the  circumstance 
that  Zeus  liimseK  lies.  He  tells  Agamemnon 
a  deliberate  falsehood  in  order  to  brinsr  honor 
to  the  Trojan  arms  (ii.  8).  Here  again  the  lie 
is  especially  wicked,  because  it  is  treacherous. 
Zeus  sends  a  dream  to  Agamemnon,  bidding  him 
arm  the  Greeks,  for  the  hour  has  come  when 
Troy  shall  fall.  He,  Zeus,  pities  Agamem- 
non, and  has  decreed  the  destruction  of  the 
Trojan  city.  Yet  all  this  time  Zeus  is  planning 
the  ruin  of  myriads  of  Greeks  by  the  side  of 
their  dark  shij)s.  And  thus  Zeus  lies  to  his 
own  children,  which  we  have  no  reason  to 
think  that  Hector  or  Nestor  would  have  done. 
Indeed,  as  poetical  conceptions,  Andromache 
or  Hecuba  are  less  subject  to  criticism  than  is 
Zeus.     Now  we   do  not  expect  in  a  heathen 

14 


210  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

poet  a  perfect  conception  of  moral  character, 
but  we  have  a  right  to  look  for  at  least  as  high 
a  conception  in  his  representations  of  the  gods 
as  in  those  of  men. 

We  pass  on  to  notice  the  sublime  in  Homer's 
conception  of  the  immortals.  They  are  by  no 
means  always  undignified;  they  are  occasion- 
ally described  in  lofty  and  majestic  strains, 
and  their  actions  are  wholly  worthy  of  their 
character.  Some  of  the  most  notable  exam- 
ples of  the  sublime  in  Homer's  descriptions  of 
the  gods  are  the  following.  The  poet,  speak- 
ing of  Apollo's  hostile  approach  to  the  Greeks, 
says: 

"And  he  came  from  the  heights  of  Olympus 
with  wrath  in  his  heart,  on  his  shoulders  bearing 
the  bow  and  well-covered  quiver.  Loud  rattled  the 
arrows  on  the  shoulder  of  the  angry  one,  as  he 
moved  along.  He  came  like  night.  Then  he  seated 
himself  far  from  the  sliips,  and  shot  an  arrow.  A 
terrible  clang  resounded  from  the  silver  bow." — 
\_mad,  i.  44-49.] 

Equally  sublime  is  the  nod  of  Zeus : 

"  He  spake  :  and  with  his  dark  brows  nodded  the 
son  of  Cronius,  and  the  King's  ambrosial  locks 
flowed  forward  from  the  immortal  head :  then  trem- 
bled the  heights  of  Olympus."— [ZZ/acZ,  i.  527-529.] 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  211 

This  may   be   compared  with   Job  xxvii. : 
''  The  pillars  of  heaven  do  quake, 
And  shudder  at  His  rebuke." 

A  third  example  is  in  the  Fourteenth  Book 
of  the  Iliad,  where  the  i^oet  describes  the  mo- 
tion of  two  goddesses : 

"Then  on  the  firm  land  they  moved  forward, 
and  the  crest  of  the  forest  trembled  at  their  steps." 

We  notice  also  the  description  of  Neptune's 
escort  in  the  Thirteenth  Book : 

"  Sea-monsters,  coming  from  their  hiding-places, 
sported  around  him  on  every  side ;  they  knew  their 
lord.  With  joy  the  sea  divided,  and  they  [his 
steeds]  flew  as  on  wings,  nor  was  the  brazen  axle 
moistened  beneath." 

Such  mstances  of  the  sublime  in  Homer's  con- 
ceptions of  the  gods  are  rare ;  nor  do  even  these 
select  passages  equal  in  beauty  and  majesty 
what  is  contained  in  the  Hebrew  poem. 

If  we  glance  now  at  Milton's  conception  of 
God,  we  find  here  also  a  painful  lack  of  dignity 
which  is  less  easily  apologized  for  than  is  that  of 
the  heathen  poet.    Jehovah,  speaking  of  the  de- 
fection of  the  first  man,  is  represented  as  saying : 
"  Whose  fault  [is  it]  ? 
Whose  but  his  own  ?  Ingrate,  he  had  of  me 
All  he  could  have."  [Paradise  Lost,  iii.  9G-98.] 


212  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

But  this  is  not  God  the  Lord,  of  infinite  maj- 
esty and  glory :  the  speaker  is  an  irritable, 
angry  man.  The  passage  breathes  the  bitter 
spirit  of  some  sectarian,  and  not  that  of  Him 
who  is  long-suffering,  abundant  in  goodness 
and  truth. 

Again,  Raphael,  m  his  discourse,  says  to 
Adam  concerning  the  race  that  should  spring 
from  him : 

"  If  they  list  to  try 
Conjecture,  he  his  fabric  of  the  heavens 
Hath  left  to  their  dispute,  perhaps  to  move 
His  laughter  at  their  quaint  opinions  wide 
Hereafter,  when  they  come  to  model  heaven 
And  calculate  the  stars."  [Chap.  viii.  75-80.] 

The  Bible  ascribes  laughter  to  God,  but  the 

occasions   are  very  different  from  this.     The 

Psalmist  says  : 

"  The  kings  of  the  earth  set  themselves, 
And  the  rulers  take  counsel  together, 
Against  the  Lord,  and  against  his  anointed,  saying, 
Let  us  break  their  bands  asunder. 
And  cast  away  their  cords  from  us. 
He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens  shall  laugh, 
The  Lord  shall  have  them  in  derision." 

[Psalm  ii.  2-4.] 

The  occasion  for  laughter  in  Milton,  being  the 
quaint,  scientific  opinions  of  men,  is  trivial  and 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  213 

unwortliy ;  but  tlie  occasion  in  the  Psalm,  the 
proud  and  rebellious  plotting  of  kings  and 
rulers,  is  appropriate.  Not  less  objectionable 
is  the  laughter  spoken  of  in  Book  xii.  58-61. 

Sometimes  Milton's  conceptions  are  not  only 
undignified,  but  also  positively  belittling.    For 
instance,  God  is  represented  as  saying : 
"  Let  us  advise,  and  to  this  hazard  dravr 
With  speed  what  force  is  left,  and  all  employ 
In  our  defense,  lest  unawares  we  lose 
This  our  high  place,  our  sanctuary,  our  hill." 

[Chap.  V.  721-724.] 

Zeus  might  have  spoken  thus,  and  the  concep- 
tion of  him  still  remained  high ;  but  for  the  God 
of  Scripture  to  speak  in  this  way  is  absurd. 
Must  He  advise  with  others  how  He  is  to  hold 
His  empire  ?    Is  He,  forsooth,  thrown  upon  the 
help  of  angels  for  the  defence  of  His  sanctuary? 
More  unworthy  and  unpoetical  is  the  i^icture 
when  the  poet  speaks  of  the  creation  of  Eve. 
He  relates  a  dream  which  Adam  had  while  the 
deep  sleep  was  upon  him.   Adam  sees  the  Lord, 
"■  Who,  stooping,  opened  my  left  side,  and  took 
From  thence  a  rib,  with  cordial  spirits  warm. 
And  life-blood  streaming  fresh ;  wide  was  the 

wound. 
But  suddenly  with  flesh  filled  up  and  healed." 

[Chaji.  viii.  505-568.] 


214  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

The  account  which  the  Bible  gives  of  the  cre- 
ation of  Eve  is  poetical,  though  written  in 
prose  ;  Milton's  description  is  prosaic  to  the 
last  degree,  though  written  in  verse.  Homer 
paints  many  a  bloody  scene,  enumerates  repul- 
sive details  of  slaughter  and  death.  His  he- 
roes hew  one  another  in  pieces,  the  dark  blood 
spurts  forth,  the  marrow  runs  from  the  severed 
bones,  and  the  axles  of  the  chariots  are  cov- 
ered with  gore ;  but  repulsive  as  these  details 
are,  they  do  not  seem  to  us  to  be  so  gross  a 
violation  of  poetical  taste  as  this  scene  at  the 
creation  of  Eve.  The  Lord  stooping  over  the 
sleeping  Adam,  holding  in  his  hand  a  rib  with 
cordial  spirits  warm,  streaming  with  fresh  life- 
blood — this  is  as  unpoetical  and  as  unparadis- 
aical  a  proceeding  as  can  well  be  imagined. 
The  most  unintelligible  mysticism  of  Dante  is 
preferable  to  this  scene  of  blood.  These  ex- 
amples of  the  undignified  and  low  in  Milton's 
conception  might  be  increased,  but  need  not 
be  for  the  present  purpose.  They  are  suffi- 
cient to  enable  one  to  feel  the  difference  be- 
tween Milton  and  Job.  It  will  be  readily 
admitted  by  everyone  that  Milton  has  sublime 
passages  relating  to  God.  No  one  speaks 
more  grandly  than  he,  when  he  says : 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  215 

"  Now  had  tli'  almighty  Father  from  above, 
From  the  pure  emjiyrean  where  he  sits, 
High  thi'oned  above  all  height,  bent  down  liis  eye 
His  own  works  and  their  works  at  once  to  view." 

No  poet  speaks  more  worthily  and  more  aii- 
gustly  than  he  in  the  lines  that  describe  crea- 
tion : 

"  So  sang  the  hierarchies  :  meanwliile  the  Son 
On  his  great  expedition  now  appeared, 
Girt  with  omnipotence,  with  radiance  crowned 
Of  majesty  divine  ;  sapience  and  love 
Immense,  and  all  his  Father  in  him  shone. 
About  his  chariot  numberless  were  poured, 
Cherub  and  seraph,  potentates  and  thi'ones, 
And  virtues,  winged  spirits,  and  chariots  winged 
From  the  armory  of  God,  where  stand  of  old 
Myriads  between  two  brazen  mountains  lodged 
Against  a  solemn  day,  harnessed  at  hand. 
Celestial  equipage  ;  and  now  came  forth 
Spontaneous,  for  wdthin  them  spirit  lived. 
Attendant  on  their  Lord  ;  Heaven  opened  wide 
Her  ever-during  gates ;  harmonious  sound 
On  golden  hinges  moving,  to  let  forth 
The  King  of  Glory,  in  his  powerful  Word 
And  Spirit,  coming  to  create  new  worlds." 

And  a  third  passage  might  be  quoted,  than 
which  nothing  has  been  simg  of  God  that  is 
more  dignified  and  beautiful : 


216  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

"  God  doth  not  need 
Either  man's  work  or  his  own  gifts ;  who  best 
Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  him  best :  his 

state 
Is  kingly ;  thousands  at  his  bidding  speed, 
And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest ; 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait." 

But  with  these  choicest  utterances  of  our 
great  epic  singer,  who  lived  under  the  full 
light  of  Christ's  perfect  revelation  of  the  Fa- 
ther, we  may  compare  the  lines  of  the  unknown 
author  of  Job.  First,  we  notice  the  words  of 
Zopliar  on  the  unf  athomableness  of  the  Divine 
Being : 

"  Canst  thou  find  out  the  depth  of  Eldah, 

Or  fathom  th'  Almighty's  perfection  ? 

Heights  of  heaven  ! — what  canst  thou  do  ? 

Than  Shedl  it  is  deeper  ! — what  know  ? 

Its  measure  is  longer  than  earth, 

And  broader  is  it  than  the  sea." 

[Chap.  xi.  7-9.] 

The  exclamatory  description  of  the  Divine  per- 
fection is  simple  and  sublime.  "  Heights  of 
heaven ! "  Look  \\\>  to  the  clouds  and  the 
stars :  so  immeasurably  does  the  wisdom  and 
power  of  God  transcend  human  comprehen- 
sion. Deeper  than  the  unfathomable  Sheol, 
long  as  the  earth,  and  broad  as  the  sea,  is  the 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  217 

perfection  of  God.  This  representation  is  con- 
crete, and  perhaps  impresses  the  mind  more 
deeply  through  the  senses  than  any  abstract 
conception  could  do.  The  majestic  power 
and  unapproachable  purity  of  God  are  por- 
trayed by  Bildad.  There  is  no  sublimer  or 
more  beautiful  expression  of  the  immeasur- 
able gailf  between  God  and  man,  as  regards 
power  and  purity,  than  this  description  by 
Bildad : 

"  Dominion  and  fear  are  with  Him, 
Who  maketh  peace  in  His  heights. 
Is  there  of  His  troops  any  number  ? 
And  o'er  whom  doth  not  His  light  rise  ? 
How  can  man  be  just  before  God, 
How  the  woman-born  one  be  pure  ? 
Lo,  even  the  moon  sliines  not  brightly, 
And  the  stars  are  not  clean  in  His  eyes : 
Much  less  is  frail  man — a  crawler ! 
And  the  son  of  man — a  worm  !  "        [Chap,  xxv.] 

He  maketh  peace !  There  is  no  more  beauti- 
ful and  forcible  way  of  expressing  the  sover- 
eignty of  the  Almighty.  There  is  no  clash 
of  arms,  no  shout  of  battling  squadrons,  no 
wounds  or  ruin.  Perhaps  our  poet  would  not 
under  any  circumstances  have  described  a  war 
in  heaven,  as  Milton  does.     But  if  there  were 


218  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

hostility  against  God,  He  has  troops  without 
number,  and  m  no  case  would  He  need  to  be 
personally  active  in  the  conflict.  Milton,  as 
will  be  remembered,  rej)resents  the  Son  of 
God  as  leading  in  person  the  hosts  of  faitliful 
angels,  and  as  taking  part  in  the  battle  with 
Satan  and  his  legions.  This  is  a  sublime  pas- 
sage, and  as  terrible  as  it  is  sublime.  But 
there  is  a  still  subluner  conception  of  God  as 
a  sovereign,  in  relation  to  rebellious  creatures, 
and  it  is  briefly  contained  in  the  words  of 
Bildad : 

"  Dominion  and  fear  are  with  Him, 
Who  maketh  peace  in  His  heights." 

Were  there  hostility  toward  him  among  God's 
creatures,  a  single  calm  word  would  suffice  to 
lay  the  storm  or  hurl  the  offenders  down  into 
darkness  and  prison.  Such  is  the  sovereignty 
pictured  in  these  lines.  It  is  in  a  measure 
derogatory  to  the  dignity  of  God  that  He 
should  actually  take  part  m  battle.  To  repre- 
sent Him  as  so  doing  is  an  anthropomorphism 
which  can  be  justified  only  by  the  most  intense 
feeling  on  the  part  of  the  writer  (as  in  Job  vi. 
4),  which  feeling,  in  Milton's  case,  was  neces- 
sarily wanting. 

The  remaining  passages  that  we  shall  con- 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  219 

sicler  are  from  the  lips  of  Job  himself.  He 
not  only  knows  more  about  the  living  God 
than  do  his  friends,  but  on  the  whole  he 
surpasses  them  all  m  descriptions  of  God's 
wisdom  and  power.  First,  Job's  reply  to 
Bildad  (chapter  ix.  4-10)  : 

"  Wise  of  heart  and  strong  in  might, 
Who  has  dared  Him,  and  yet  remained  whole  ? 
He  who  mountains  removes  and  they  know  not^ 
Because  in  His  wrath  He  o'erturned  them ; 
Who  shaketh  the  earth  from  its  place. 
And  its  pillars  do  reel  to  and  fro ; 
Who  speaks  to  the  sun,  and  it  shines  not, 
And  setteth  a  seal  on  the  stars ; 
Who  spreads  out  the  heavens  alone. 
And  walks  o'er  the  heights  of  the  sea ; 
Who  maketh  the  Bear,  Orion, 
The  Cluster  and  Chambers  of  Teman ; 
Who  doeth  great  things  beyond  searching, 
And  wonderful  deeds  without  number." 

Here,  as  in  chapter  xii.  13-25,  the  theme  is 
the  might  and  wisdom  of  God.  In  this  case 
the  poet  draws  his  illustrations  from  Nature ; 
in  that,  from  the  dealmgs  of  God  in  History. 
In  another  passage  (chapter  xxvi.),  he  has  to 
do  again  chiefly  with  the  manifestations  of 
God's  wisdom  and  power  m  the  natural  world. 


220  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

He  evidently  prefers  this  theme — God  in  Na- 
ture ;  and  he  speaks  on  it  more  sublimely  than 
he  speaks  of  God  in  History. 

The  passage  before  us  puts  the  power  of 
God  in  the  foreground,  and  with  unsurpassed 
majesty.  His  hand  moves  the  everlasting 
mountams  and  shakes  the  earth  itself.  Its 
pillars  reel.  The  sun  hears  God's  voice,  and 
ceases  to  shine.  The  countless  stars  of  heaven 
are  hidden  by  the  sealing  touch  of  His  hand. 
The  canopy  of  the  sky,  as  a  vast  and  luminous 
tent,  set  with  planets  and  stars,  He  spreads  out 
alone,  and  over  the  waves  of  the  sea,  which, 
rising  mountain-high,  seemmgly  threaten  the 
universal  earth  beneath  this  heavenly  canoj^y 
with  destruction — over  these  He  walks,  their 
ruler  and  lord.  And  the  great  constellations 
of  the  heavens — the  Bear,  Orion  the  giant,  the 
Cluster  which  the  Greeks  called  Pleiades,  and 
the  Chambers  of  the  South — these  unchanging 
witnesses  of  man's  frailty,  the  same  in  their 
bright  silence  as  generations  pass,  all  these  He 
made,  and,  as  it  were,  re-makes,  since  He  con- 
tinually upholds  them.  The  selection  of  ob- 
jects is  admirably  adapted  to  the  end  in  view, 
and  the  treatment  is  simple  and  vivid.  The 
exalted   actions   of    the   Almighty   are   repre- 


ITS  INTERPRETATION  221 

sented  as  taking  place  before  our  eyes,  and 
they  are  all  worthy  of  Him. 

We  should  notice  also  the  quiet  majesty 
which  characterizes  these  actions.  God  simply 
"  speaks  "  to  the  sun.  He  does  not,  like  Mars, 
shout  as  loudly  as  nine  thousand  men;  He 
does  not  cry  out,  but  only  "  speaks."  Again, 
He  "  walks  "  on  the  waves  of  the  sea ;  that  is. 
He  is  calm  in  the  midst  of  the  roaring  and 
tossing  waters.  There  is  no  haste,  no  fear,  no 
excitement.  He  is  calm  in  the  performance 
of  the  greatest  deeds,  and  even  though  He  be 
surrounded  by  tumult  and  confusion.  Here 
is  a  sublimity  to  which  Homer  and  Milton  do 
not  attain. 

The  passage  in  chapter  xii.  13-25,  which 
illustrates  the  wisdom  and  power  of  God  from 
History,  is  not  unworthy  of  our  poet.  It  rep- 
resents God  as  moving  through  human  society, 
loosing  and  binding  the  girdles  of  kings,  lead- 
ing away  to  banishment  those  who  were  high 
in  authority  and  esteem,  bringing  to  naught 
the  speech  of  the  trusty  and  the  judgment  of 
elders,  humbling  and  exalting  the  nations,  and 
He  is  represented  as  doing  this  calmly  and 
irresistibly. 

The  last  example  of  Job's  power  to  which 


222  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

we   call   attention  is  the   following  passage : 

"  The  shades  suffer  pains 
Beneath  the  sea  and  its  dwellers  ; 
Shedl  is  naked  before  Him, 
And  no  covering  hath  the  abyss. 
He  spreads  out  the  north  o'er  the  waste, 
And  suspendeth  the  earth  over  chaos. 
In  His  thick  clouds  He  shuts  up  the  waters. 
Yet  a  cloud  is  not  broken  beneath  them  ; 
He  encloseth  the  front  of  the  throne, 
He  spreadeth  upon  it  His  cloud. 
A  circle  He  drew  on  the  waters 
To  the  last  ray  of  light  near  the  darkness. 
The  pillars  of  heaven  do  quake 
And  shudder  at  His  rebuke. 
In  His  might  He  exciteth  the  sea, 
By  His  knowledge  He  shattereth  Rahab. 
By  His  breath  are  the  heavens  made  bright, 
His  hand  the  flying  dragon  hath  pierced. 
Lo,  these  are  the  ends  of  His  ways, 
But  what  a  mere  murmur  we  hear. 
And  the  roar  of  His  great  might  who  knows  ?  " 

{Chap.  xxvi.  5-14.] 

The  poet  draws  on  the  universe  in  the  fol- 
lowing order :  Sheol,  heaven,  earth,  heaven. 
His  last  word,  as  the  last  word  in  each  of  the 
three  parts  of  Dante's  great  poem,  concerns 
the  sky. 


ITS  INTERPRETATION.  223 

Far  down  in  the  "  blind  world,"  at  the  great- 
est possible  distance  from  the  light  and  glory 
of  God's  dwelling,  the  shades,  though  insensi- 
ble to  joy  and  sorrow  from  other  sources,  feel 
the  workings  of  God's  power.  To  the  extreme 
limit  of  the  universe  His  hand  reaches,  and 
the  most  insensible  creatures  tremble  before 
Him.  Sheol,  whose  gates  man  has  never 
seen  (xxxviii.  17),  the  world  wrapped  in  mid- 
night, is  "  naked  "  before  His  eye  ;  and  so  the 
whole  universe  is  "  swept  forever  by  the  vision 
and  breath  of  God."  He  spreads  out  the 
northern  sky,  and  suspends  the  earth  over 
nothing.  Then  follows  the  cloud-miracle,  daily 
repeated  before  our  eyes.  The  general  idea 
in  the  second  reference  to  the  clouds  seems  to 
be  that  God  uses  them  to  curtain  His  throne, 
when  He  comes  near  to  the  earth  in  judgment. 
The  sea,  whose  rising  is  feared  by  men,  God 
excites  without  fear,  and  He  shatters  the  sea- 
monster  Rahab,  which,  according  to  the  folks' 
legend,  was  thought  of  as  active  in  making  the 
sea  tempestuous.  Turning  his  eye  upward 
again,  the  poet  sees  how  the  heavens  are  made 
bright  by  the  breath  of  God,  and  how  His 
hand  impales  to  the  heavenly  vault  the  flying 
dragon,  the   monster  which  was  supposed  to 


224  THE  POETRY  OF  JOB. 

darken  sun  and  moon.  But  all  these  won- 
drous manifestations  of  the  wisdom  and  power 
of  God,  when  compared  with  the  depths  of  His 
wisdom  and  power,  are  but  as  a  murmur  com- 
pared with  the  loud  thunder,  a  magnificent 
closing  to  a  magnificent  description.  Here,  as 
before,  the  handling  of  the  theme  is  concrete. 
Sheol  and  its  dwellers,  the  northern  sky,  the 
earth  hung  in  mid-air,  the  marvellous  clouds, 
the  mountainous  pillars  of  heaven,  the  tem- 
pestuous sea  and  the  flying  dragon, — this  is 
the  sublime  imagery  which  the  poet  employs. 
And  it  is  used  vividly,  grandly,  and  in  a  man- 
ner worthy  of  Him  whose  power  is  portrayed. 
It  is  poetry  that  moves  the  soul  of  a  child  as 
well  as  that  of  the  mature  man.  It  is  child- 
like in  its  outlook  on  the  world,  it  is  natural, 
transparent,  sublime.  It  breathes  a  simple, 
large,  beautiful  conception  of  Nature  and  Na- 
ture's God.  It  is  full  of  primitive  strength 
and  of  reverent  nobility.  Homer  is  not  so 
sublime,  Milton  is  not  so  sublime  ;  the  Hebrew 
bard  is  their  unapproachable  master. 


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BS1415.G464 
The  poetry  of  Job. 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


1    1012  00042  7668 


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